


The Sword and the Shield

by SamDreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con (Not Main Pairing), Boys In Love, Brothers Don't Know They're Related, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Knight Dean Winchester, M/M, The Boys Don't Find Out in this Story, Warlock Sam Winchester, brothers raised apart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:56:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 28,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21612358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamDreams/pseuds/SamDreams
Summary: King Michael of Calden forbids sorcery of any kind, and anyone found practicing magic is doomed to be burned at the stake.  John Winchester panics the day he sees his three-year-old son Sam cast a magic spell without even realizing it.  Taking drastic measures, he sweeps his youngest son away to be raised by a family as their own in another town far away from the dangers of Calden.Years later, when newly-knighted Dean Winchester comes to the small town of Crest Haven and first sees the blacksmith’s apprentice working at the forge, sparks fly.  But Dean isn’t the only one who’s noticed Sam Winslow at the smith shop.  There’s another tournament contestant with sinister intentions who has his eye on the young apprentice, and Dean doesn’t like it.  Not at all.Or…the story about how Fate couldn’t abide Dean and Sam living apart and made damn sure to fix it.  :)
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 93
Kudos: 117





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry for this year's SPN Reversebang challenge. I haven't participated in this challenge since the 2014 round, so I'm delighted to be back posting again.
> 
> This story has been kicking around my head for several years, but it wasn't until the immensely talented Phoenix1966 submitted her gorgeous artwork of Blacksmith Sam that I felt compelled to bring it to life. It seemed like kismet. :) I can't thank her enough for her fantastic art that has inspired me to push this story across the finish line. Please check out all of her artwork (and get some terrific recs, too!) here on Tumblr: https://phoenix1966sbottom.tumblr.com/post/189372244224/the-sword-and-the-shield-author-name-samdreams
> 
> I'd also like to thank the lovely and very patient JaniceC678 for her invaluable assistance as my beta for this story. Thanks for spending so much time combing through my words and coming up with terrific suggestions to improve them! Any remaining typos or grammatical errors are mine alone.
> 
> Thank you to the moderators who make this fun challenge possible every year! We couldn't do this without you, and this is one of the most fun writing challenges out there!
> 
> Please read this story knowing that, while the setting is medieval, the characters themselves speak in modern English. Also, same-sex relationships are completely acceptable in this universe, so you won't find any homophobia here.
> 
> I should mention that I am by no means a medieval expert. I did watch A Knight's Tale - does that count? ;) I will be forever grateful if you will take any historical or sporting inaccuracies with a grain of salt and employ the willing suspension of disbelief as you read. :)
> 
> ****************************************************************************************************************************

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Prologue *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

John Winchester dismounted from the carriage and lifted his three-year-old son Samuel from the passenger seat. The cover of night only afforded so much privacy in a small town such as Crest Haven, so he wanted to be sure to get in and out quickly.

“Where are we, Daddy?” Sam asked with a yawn. John was grateful his son had slept for most of the journey. When awake, the boy was a never-ending litany of questions and childish chatter. Given the purpose behind his trip, John was relieved to not have had to worry about that for the entire journey.

“Shh,” John whispered. “We’re visiting Ed and Sheila.”

John took Sam’s hand and led him down the alley beside a small home. “Where’s De?” asked Sam in a quieter voice.

“He’s at home.”

“Why not here?”

John paused and ruffled Sam’s thick hair. “I wish he could’ve come, buddy, but he couldn’t.”

“Why?”

John smiled, then felt the sudden prick of tears. His youngest, always so inquisitive. Suddenly all those times he’d been annoyed by the endless stream of curiosity seemed like the most precious moments of his life. “I’ll explain more later. Now let’s go inside.”

John stepped onto the porch and knocked on the weathered wooden door. The door opened a crack, and then swung wide.

“Glad you made it.”

“Me, too.” John led Sam into the house and stepped aside so Ed could close the door behind them.

Ed and Sheila Winslow lived in a modest wooden home. The furnishings were practical yet comfortable. The stone fireplace in the center of the family living area was unlit and lay cold at this time of year, but John knew from past visits that, when lit with a crackling fire, it created a cozy, welcoming living space. He could picture his youngest son being happy here. And safe.

Ed’s wife entered the room. “Hello there!” she greeted, her smile friendly.

“Hey, Sheila. Good to see you again,” said John, and he hugged her.

Sam beamed up at her. “Hi! I’m Sam.”

“I know,” she said with a grin, bending down closer to meet his eyes. “I met you when you were a baby, but you were too young to remember. I can’t believe how big you’ve grown! I might have some goodies in the kitchen for you to eat. Want to come and see?” She held out her hand.

Sam glanced at his father for permission and John nodded. Sam took the offered hand, and Sheila led him into the kitchen.

Both men watched them go and made sure they were out of earshot before speaking.

“I borrowed a carriage so I wouldn’t be recognized.”

Ed sighed. “Are you sure you want to do this? That boy will be heartbroken when you don’t come back.”

“Better heartbroken than dead. You should’ve seen what he did the other day. He has his mother’s magic.”

“What did he do? I’ll need to be prepared.”

“We were out walking in the far meadow near the forest. A huge bear came out of the woods about 15 feet away from us. We all froze, but the bear started charging. Dean yelped a little, and Sam held up his hand.” John mimicked the gesture, holding his arm straight out in front of him with his palm turned outward. “He said, ‘No, bear!’ And that gigantic bear just stopped in its tracks, turned around, and walked back into the woods without a sound. I’ve never seen anything like that in my life. Not even Mary could do such a thing.”

Ed’s jaw dropped. Then: “Has he demonstrated an ability to communicate with any other animals?”

John shook his head. “Not really communicate so much as…he just has a real affinity. He understands them, what they want or need. They follow him around the grounds all the time. It’s like a circus in the stables.” He chuckled fondly and felt a fresh sting behind his eyes as he tried to control his emotions.

“Has he done any other kind of magic?”

“Healing. During his first riding lesson, Dean fell off his horse and hit his head and arm. Sam got so upset. He ran over and wouldn’t let anyone touch Dean for a minute, and then suddenly Dean sat up and said he felt just fine. Funny thing is, Sam seemed even more surprised than the rest of us about it.”

“So he doesn’t know he’s doing it?”

“No. That’s the whole reason I’m here, Ed. King Michael has banned all magic of any kind, even healing, from Calden. Two days ago, I saw my seventh witch-burning this month, and there is no way I’m allowing him to murder my boy. Even if it means I have to let him go.”

“Surely the king wouldn’t murder a small child!”

John glanced up with a grim expression. “Two days ago, the burning witch was a ten-year-old boy.”

Ed gasped in horror. “God’s teeth!” He rubbed his face. “Perhaps some evil magic has befallen the king himself.”

“I have no idea what’s caused his relentless hunt for magic users. I intend to try and stop it if I can.”

“If the king is murdering children, John, I’m fairly certain he’s beyond reason. Make sure you don’t put yourself in his crosshairs trying to talk sense into him.”

John sighed and nodded. “King Jacob hasn’t shown signs of falling in step with Michael, has he? Crest Haven is still safe for those with magic?”

“No one announces such things boldly because some people often fear what they cannot understand. It’s best to keep such powers quiet to avoid any problems. However, the king himself has not indicated any dislike for the magic arts. In fact, I believe he may even have one or two counselors who dabble in the mystical. I foresee no danger for Sam here.”

“This is one time that I thank God that Mary isn’t alive to see what Calden has become. I can’t imagine the fear she’d be living with. Whatever has persuaded the king into this insanity, I’ll not risk my son’s life because he can do magic that he doesn’t know how to control.”

“We’ll help him learn, John. You know Bobby Singer?”

John nodded. He and Bobby had fought in their respective armies during The Cavern War several years before. Crest Haven and Calden had been allies then, fighting with other armies against a handful of kingdoms disputing the zoning of rich mining territories. During the war, Bobby had never mentioned having magical abilities, but John had seen him do some strange and inexplicable things during their time together. It wasn’t until much later in their friendship that Bobby had shared his secret with John.

“I know him. We had a bit of a falling out a while back.”

“Well, as you probably remember, Bobby is very good with magic. He’s the best healer we have in Crest Haven. He’s knowledgeable about herbal remedies as well as magic spells. He can show Sam how to control his magic.”

“That would be most appreciated. Please pass along my thanks for his help. Anything you need, Ed, anything at all…send word. I will pay for the best teachers, the best medicine if he gets sick…anything at all. I need to know he’ll be safe.”

Ed put his hand on John’s shoulder. “We’ll raise him like our own. I’ll do anything I can for him.”

“Thank you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“Sheila and I have been trying to start a family for years without success. You are doing us the favor, John, truly. We are happy to take care of Sam. I just hate the reason he has to stay.”

John glanced toward the kitchen. He heard Sam giggle over something Sheila said. Tears burned behind his eyes again. “He needs to believe his family died.”

“Why so tragic? Couldn’t we tell him you’re on a trip, a long quest or crusade type of duty?”

John bowed his head. “I need everyone in Calden to think he’s dead. Even if Sam is living here where magic is more accepted, King Michael’s reach is long. I’m his Chief Commander. Can you imagine what he would do to my family if he found out I’d hidden Sam’s magic for years?

“No,” John continued with a shake of his head. “Sam can’t control what he can do. He’s too little. He doesn’t understand it. If he stays with me, we risk someone finding out. Servants, townspeople, you know how gossip travels like wildfire. If anyone saw Sam’s abilities, they might view it as a way to get money or favors from the king for turning Sam in as a witch. I can’t risk it. I won’t. Not when he can stay here, and Bobby can show him how to control his powers.

“That’s what I need more than anything. Someone who can show him how to control it. How to hide it. How very, very important it is to—” John broke off, his voice cracking. He covered his mouth and tried not to give in to the overwhelming urge to cry. Then, whispering: “Damnit, Ed, I can’t let that bastard burn my little boy. I’ll do anything to prevent it.”

Ed sighed again, his heart heavy with what was about to happen. “Last year, when I visited you, I saw your boys playing together. Sam and Dean will not handle this separation well, no matter what story we tell them.”

“I know. It’ll be hard on all of us. But if it will keep Sam safe, we must do it. Everyone in Calden must believe he’s dead, including Dean. As soon as Dean’s old enough to run away, he’d comb the world to find Sam if he thought Sam were still alive. That can’t happen. Not until Michael is no longer a threat.

“Everyone here in Crest Haven must think he’s your adopted son. Tell them whatever you need to tell them.”

“But does Sam really need to think you and Dean died?”

“He’s a child. He won’t know what secrets to keep. He’ll talk about nothing but Dean to anyone who’ll listen if you don’t tell him something to prevent it.”

Ed was about to argue, but it was pointless. John was right. “Okay. He’s your son. I’ll do whatever is needed to keep him safe here.”

“I’ll send you the monthly payment we discussed to pay for his care.”

“Damnit, John, you know I don’t care about that.”

“I know, but I do. I need to take care of my son, even if I can’t do it personally. This will help.”

“Daddy, look!” Sam said excitedly as he ran back into the room, holding up a big piece of bread slathered messily with butter.

John knelt down and smiled. “Did you already have some?”

Sam beamed and nodded. “It was good. I ate cheese, too.”

Smiling, John stroked Sam’s hair. “Son, I need to tell you something. I’m going on a trip, so I need to leave you here with Ed and Sheila till I get back.”

The smile vanished from Sam’s face instantly. The bread slipped from his little hand, landing butter side down on the wooden floor. His lower lip started to tremble as the words sank in. “Where?”

“It’s a city far away from here, and you’re too young to make the trip. I have to leave you somewhere safe while I travel.” John struggled to keep his voice from betraying the pain and emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

“But I wanna go.”

“I know, buddy, but you can’t. I need you to be brave now for me and promise to be good for Ed and Sheila while I’m gone.”

Sam’s eyes watered. His young voice quavered as he said, “Want Dean.”

John knelt down to eye-level with his youngest son and fought to keep his expression neutral. “I know, Sam. I know; but, this is a safe place for you while I’m gone. Ed and Sheila will take good care of you.”

“We sure will,” said Ed, fighting back his own emotional reaction at the scene.

Despite his best efforts to be brave for his father, fat tears dropped from Sam’s hazel eyes. He nodded but said nothing.

John hugged Sam tightly. “I know it’s hard, buddy. But you can do it. It won’t be for long.”

Sam hugged his father back. “Promise?”

“Promise,” whispered John, flinching as he choked the word out.

Sam nodded and sniffled, pulling away. John stood up and hugged Ed, clapping him on the back. Clearing his throat, John said, “I’d better head back before anyone misses me.”

“Safe travels,” replied Ed.

John gave him a wan smile and walked out. Sam, still stunned by the swift turn of events, silently watched his father leave. Once the front door shut behind him, Ed turned to Sam. He tried to put on a brave face and said, “Don’t worry. It won’t be long till your father is back.”

Sam shook his head and whispered so softly Ed almost didn’t hear it: “He’s not coming back.”


	2. Chapter 2

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter One *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_Fourteen Years Later_   
_Crest Haven: Saturday - Seven Days Until the Tournament_

Sam Winslow swiped his arm across his forehead to clear the drops of perspiration tickling his skin. Even though it was still early morning, the day promised to be humid and hot. Working as Mark Pellegrino’s apprentice was challenging in any weather; but, in the height of summer, the heat of the forges was nigh unbearable.

He tried to ignore the stifling heat as he bent over the red-hot horseshoe he held in his tongs to examine his work. Picking up his hammer, he began to pound the molten metal to shape it.

His tiger-striped grey cat, Thor, sat a few feet away on a bench observing Sam’s work. His soft meow brought Sam’s head back up.

“C’mon. You can’t be that hungry. I just fed you a short while ago.”

_Meow._

Sam chuckled at the forlorn sound. “Stop trying to make me feel guilty. It won’t work. And don’t harass the chickens, either.” As if they’d been summoned, three brown chickens strutted past the front of the shop outside.

Thor turned his back to Sam and began licking his paw. Sam rolled his eyes but turned back to the task at hand.

He pounded the horseshoe for another minute until he was satisfied with the shape, then doused it in a bucket of water and set it aside in a sand pit to cool.

Suddenly, the quiet blacksmith shop filled with noise from outside. Sam looked up, puzzled at the excited shouts and whoops and the quick footfalls of running children. Curious, he removed his apron and hurried out the front entrance to see what had caused the commotion.

Myriad people cluttered the once-quiet pathways outside the smithy, strangers in colorful clothing made of materials that Sam had never seen anywhere before. Sam realized that the contestants for the big tournament next weekend must be arriving.

Many cities participated in annual tournaments, but Crest Haven hadn’t seen a tournament within its borders since Sam was about ten years old. Crest Haven, with its modest population and moderate economic prospects, wasn’t usually on anyone’s priority list when searching for a prime tournament spot.

This year, however, Crest Haven had gained some respect and recognition after King Jacob had successfully hosted a peace summit between the warring kingdoms of Dungannon and Ridgeview. With that claim to fame, Crest Haven had become more desirable as a tournament location. Within only a few months of the summit, plans had been sealed to reinstate the tournament at Crest Haven.

Sam weaved his way through the crowd of people to try and find a good vantage point. Being six feet tall helped, but with a crowd this large, he’d need a good view. He marveled at all of the bright colors people wore, and their elaborate hairstyles. One woman had her hair braided and wound into an intricate pattern, with gold ribbon woven throughout. The man with her wore gold rings and a blue velvet jacket that looked lush and expensive. Sam briefly wondered who they were and which kingdom they were from. Maybe they’re royalty, he thought.

He glanced down at his own simple brown cotton shirt, dark grey pants, and brown boots that were more of a sooty grey than brown these days due to all his time at the forge. Suddenly he felt woefully underdressed.

When he heard the clip-clop of hooves in the distance, Sam’s attention snapped back to the activity along the road. He sifted his way through the people until he reached the split-rail fence lining the road. With a hop, he settled himself on the top rail of the fence, which offered him an unobstructed view of the oncoming procession.

“Is it him?” asked a young lady nearby.

“I can’t see,” said her friend.

“I’ve heard he’s handsome!” She dropped her voice and whispered something into her friend’s ear, making her blush, and they let out a peal of girlish giggles between them.

Sam hid a smile and wondered which knight they were talking about. He pretended not to listen, but kept his ears perked in the girls’ direction.

“My dad says he’s the best fighter he’s ever seen,” came a young boy’s voice. “I hope he wins!”

Sam spotted the boy perched on the fence a few feet away. He estimated the boy had seen about eight summers.

Another male voice, this one teenaged, chimed in: “When did your dad see him fight? I heard this is his first tournament.”

“Dad was in Calden two months ago when Winchester was knighted. Saw the knights practicing.”

The older boy scoffed. “He’s too green. He doesn’t stand a chance against The Wall.”

“The Wall?” asked the boy, clearly unfamiliar with the name. Sam was unfamiliar with it, too.

“He’s the biggest man you’ll ever see in your life. No way Winchester can take down a man that size.”

“He’s clever. He’ll find a way,” said the girl who’d called Winchester handsome.

“When The Wall is finished with your pretty Winchester, he’ll be drinking his meals.”

She harrumphed at him and turned away, straining instead to see the figures approaching on the road.

Despite his occupation, Sam wasn’t interesting in fighting. He preferred learning other skills and using his brain over brawn. He could wield a sword, though. To make high quality weapons, it helped to know how they’d be used, how they felt in one’s hand. In fact, he considered himself pretty good with blades, mauls, axes, and other weapons he made; still, he didn’t get excited over the idea of subduing another person or causing any bloodshed. The weapons that Sam crafted, however, were often lauded as the best quality to be found within 100 leagues. Of course, Sam himself wasn’t getting any credit for his hard work and talent. Everyone thought Pellegrino was making those beautiful weapons, and Pellegrino—ass that he was—never told anyone that his apprentice was responsible for making them. Sam couldn’t tell anyone, either, or he’d lose his job. And he had plans to see the world once he saved enough money to leave Crest Haven.

His disinterest in swordplay aside, this tournament was the biggest event to occur in Crest Haven in quite some time. So, Sam looked on with interest at the colorful procession heading his way.

The approaching coaches were fancier than the ones he usually saw clattering through town. Velvet curtains covered the windows, and some had painted wheels to match the color of the carriage. Family crests adorned the carriage doors, and the coachmen were dressed better than almost all the townspeople in Crest Haven.

One of the approaching coachmen urged his horses to move faster with a hard flick of his whip, and Sam scowled at him as he passed. He tried to make out the crest on the carriage, but it was gone too quickly. He was tempted to find the man and give him a taste of his own whip.

All angry thoughts disappeared when the next knight’s entourage appeared in the distance.

“It’s The Wall,” whispered the teenaged boy, his voice laden with awe.

It took Sam a moment to register the fact that he could actually hear the whisper despite the thick, excited crowd, which meant all of the onlookers had quieted to an unnatural level in anticipation of the next arrival.

This knight’s entourage was moving slower than his predecessors. As soon as the coaches maneuvered past Sam’s vantage point, he got his first look at the knight. His eyes widened in shock. The man was gargantuan. He sat atop a thick bay horse, his armor gleaming in the sun. Sam wondered how the horse even managing to carry such a massive weight. The knight’s feet nearly dragged the ground. The breadth of the man’s chest and shoulders sent a frisson of foreboding tripping down Sam’s spine. The idea of any man going up against a foe like this in a tournament worried him. How could anyone possibly compete against this knight’s sheer size? He could see that this knight was easily a foot taller than he himself was. The Wall, Sam thought. Apropos.

The Wall’s horse was stout yet sleek. It was muscular, a breed Sam wasn’t familiar with but instantly loved. It was covered in armor, but Sam could make out its blood bay coloring and see the long, flowing black mane and tail peeking out from beneath the armor. The horse had big feet with black feathering on its legs from the knees down. Sam was enchanted, his thoughts more on the gorgeous animal now than the huge man who rode it.

The crowd regained its collective voice again after the initial shock wore off. People were cheering and applauding the knight as he went by. Sam was silent as the man passed. Something just didn’t feel right about him, and Sam had learned to trust his instincts.

Another contestant approached and the crowd let out another welcoming cheer. The girls and boys near Sam who’d been talking about the Winchester knight whistled and hooted loudly as the group drew nearer.

“Here he comes!”

“It’s Winchester!”

Sam squinted but couldn’t make out much about the knight. He was armored from head to toe, preventing Sam from learning whether or not Winchester was as handsome as alleged. He sat his black horse expertly, and jealousy tugged at Sam when he got a good look at the beautiful animal. He’d always loved horses, but they were far too expensive for a blacksmith’s apprentice.

Winchester neared Sam’s perch on the fence, and the girl who’d commented on his beauty waved her arm excitedly. “A favor for you, Sir Knight!” she called out, waving a colorful red handkerchief at Winchester.

To Sam’s surprise, Winchester halted his fine horse and dismounted with a grace that didn’t seem possible while wearing all that heavy armor. He removed his helm and grinned brightly at the girl, giving her a slight bow. “It’s an honor, Miss.”

“Serena,” she said with a breathless giggle as Winchester accepted her token.

Sam almost missed the exchange of words. He was too busy staring in disbelief at the most stunning face he’d ever seen. Winchester was more than handsome. He was impossibly beautiful. His eyes were a brilliant green that defied definition. Even though Winchester squinted against the bright sun, Sam could see their verdant color. Winchester was tall, too, which Sam always preferred since he was tall himself. The sunlight danced in the knight’s short, spiky light-brown hair, which Sam guessed made it appear blonder than it might look indoors. He desperately wanted to find out.

“Well, Miss Serena, I will do everything I can to earn it. Thank you.” He bowed deeply and wrapped the handkerchief around the hilt of his sword.

He said, “I should go, or I’ll hold up the procession.”

Suddenly Sam realized he’d been sitting there for several long moments with his mouth hanging open. He quickly closed it and watched as Winchester put his helmet back on and mounted his horse just as easily as he’d dismounted.

“Good luck!” Serena called out, still beaming.

Winchester waved and nudged his mount gently, and the horse moved forward again at an easy trot.

Sam watched until Winchester was no longer visible, completely ignoring other contestants as they passed. He jumped off the fence and loped back toward the smithy. He’d have to ask his master for some time off to watch the tournament. He did not want to miss any of Winchester’s events.

When Sam reached the shop, Thor was sitting at the entrance as if he’d been waiting. Sam skidded to a halt to avoid running into him, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

Thor sneezed and glared at Sam with glittering yellow eyes.

_Meow._

“Well, excuse me,” Sam said, bending down to scratch Thor behind the ears. “I just saw the most gorgeous man alive. I’m allowed to be excited.”

“Where the bloody hell have you been?”

“Shit,” Sam whispered under his breath. Then, smiling at his master: “Just ran out to watch a couple of the contestants arrive.”

Mark Pellegrino narrowed his eyes at Sam. “With all these horses in town for the tournament, we’ll need plenty of horseshoes on hand.”

“Yes, sir. I’ve been making them for days.” Sam pointed to the corner where he’d stacked dozens of new horseshoes and shoeing nails in all shapes and sizes.

Pellegrino’s eyebrows arched, but instead of offering praise, he said tersely, “Then get busy sharpening and polishing those swords.” He pointed at the sword stand. “We might make a sale or two if we have plenty of stock on hand.”

Sam nodded and went to the stand, selecting a sword to sharpen. As he started his task, his mind wandered again to Knight Winchester. He had to find out more about him. But first, he had to appease Pellegrino so he could earn some time off to watch the tournament.


	3. Chapter 3

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Two *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

By afternoon, Sam had polished and sharpened every sword in the smithy’s inventory. The sun was high overhead, and the relentless heat amplified his fatigue. He wandered to the door of the shop to grab a ladle of water from the barrel. The dirt road that crossed in front of the shop was deserted, so Sam removed his apron and grabbed a nearby rag. He soaked the rag in the water and wrung it out over his head, letting the cool water seep through his shoulder-length hair and down his back. After four more times, he finally felt a bit cooler. He shook the water from his hair and wiped his face. 

His relief was short-lived. When he looked down, he grimaced. His cotton shirt had soaked up all that water and was clinging to his hot skin, making him even more uncomfortable. He sighed. His skin would likely be chafed by the end of the day between the sun and the forge’s constant barrage of heat. Maybe he’d get lucky and his shirt would dry out quickly.

He was still considering what else he could do to relieve his discomfort when he heard a sharp whinny.

“Whoa, boy, calm down!”

Sam jerked his head up at the shout to find a mounted Winchester mere feet away from the shop’s entrance. The knight’s striking horse was prancing wildly, clearly in some distress. Sam ran closer to try and help.

“Look out!” Winchester shouted at Sam. His horse reared up on its hind legs and squealed. Winchester managed to keep his seat, but Sam thought he might not be so lucky if the horse tried again.

Sam stopped directly in front of the horse and held up his hands. “Whoa,” he said softly. 

The horse dropped to all fours and grunted. Sam stayed where he was and continued in a low voice, “It’s okay, boy. You’re okay now.” He looked at Winchester and motioned for the knight to dismount.

Winchester wore a stunned expression, but that wore off quickly when he saw Sam’s signal to dismount. “Excuse me?”

“There’s something wrong. You need to get off so I can examine him.”

The horse nickered and side-stepped, calmer but obviously still agitated.

Winchester said nothing as he dismounted. Sam approached slowly. “What’s his name?”

“Nero.”

Sam smiled at Nero and carefully reached up to stroke his jaw. “Hello, Nero. My name is Sam. You’re a beautiful boy.” He ran his hand down the horse’s neck to his withers, feeling for anything that might be causing Nero pain.

“Let’s take a look at your pretty feet, shall we?” Sam said to Nero, not caring that Winchester was watching him with eyebrows arched in disbelief.

The horse lifted his front hoof before Sam had even fully leaned forward. “Well, this one looks just fine, buddy. Let’s check that other one.”

Sam worked his way around three hooves, finding nothing unusual. When he got to the last one, he found a small rock lodged between the sole and the shoe.

“Ah, here’s the culprit,” he told Winchester, who walked closer. Sam pried the rock from Nero’s hoof and held it up for Winchester to see. “Small, but pointy enough to cause him some pain.”

“Huh. I just checked him over this morning and didn’t see it.”

“Well, these roads can be a little rough. He might’ve picked it up when you were in the procession this morning.”

Winchester smiled at him, and Sam flushed scarlet when he remembered that he must look like a drowned rat. “You were there?”

Words failed him, so Sam just nodded.

“Hm. I’m surprised I don’t remember seeing you there.”

“Well, there were a lot of people,” said Sam with a small smile. “And I was drier then.”

Winchester gave him a long look that made Sam’s insides give a funny quiver. He’d never felt anything like it. Then the knight smiled and arched an eyebrow. “Like I said, I’m surprised I don’t remember seeing _you_ there.” His smile grew wider and he held out his hand. “Dean Winchester, at your service.”

Sam blushed and gave Dean a firm handshake. “Sam Winslow. Pleasure to meet you.” He turned back to Nero. “Friesian?”

Dean gave Sam another leisurely once-over and then turned to look at his horse. “Yeah. You know your horses. My father brought him home from one of his campaigns and gave him to me as a gift.”

“He’s gorgeous.”

Dean turned to look at Sam again with that expression that Sam couldn’t quite read. “Yes,” he replied softly. “He really is.” 

“Earlier, I heard people say that you just got knighted. Congratulations.” 

Dean smiled. “Thank you. Now all I have to do is win this tournament to be taken seriously.”

“Why do you think you’re not taken seriously already?” asked Sam as he gently stroked Nero’s neck. 

“My father is the Chief Commander of the king’s armies in Calden. A lot of people think I just got knighted because he’s my father.”

“But the king has to agree to it, right?”

“Yeah, he does. But you know how it is.”

Sam chuckled before he could stop himself. “Actually, I have no idea.”

Dean grinned. “I like that.” He turned toward the shop. “You work here?”

“Yeah. I’m Pellegrino’s apprentice.”

“So you can take care of my sword for me?” 

It was Sam’s turn to grin. “I’d be honored. What do you need?”

Dean was so struck by the full impact of Sam’s dimples and straight teeth that it took him a moment to gather his thoughts enough to respond. He finally smiled and said, “I’ll come back with a list of things.”

“Well, before you go, let me give Nero a little poultice for his sore hoof. Can’t have him fussing during your turn at the lists.”

Sam patted Nero’s forehead and turned back toward the shop. He kept ointments and oils on hand for when he did farrier work, so he was sure he’d have the ingredients he needed.

“You have a way with animals,” Winchester commented a few minutes later, watching Sam as he bent over tending to Nero, the horse now calm and at ease.

“Thank you, though I think it’s more that they can just sense how much I love them. Especially horses. Horses are my favorite.”

_Meow._

Sam chuckled at Thor, who was perched on a wooden beam overhead looking down at him. “Except for you, of course, Thor.”

“Thor?” 

Sam smiled. “He’s a little cat, but he has the heart of a god.” Thor puffed out his chest and seemed to preen at the compliment.

Dean chuckled. “He’s beautiful. I wish I weren’t allergic to cats.”

He quietly watched Sam work for a few moments before asking, “Ever think about doctoring animals full-time?”

Sam tied a covering over Nero’s hoof to hold the packing and ointment in place. He straightened and sighed. “I have, though I’m not sure my parents would approve. They seem to think there’s more need for a blacksmith than an animal doctor.”

Dean smiled and started to respond when he was abruptly cut off.

“You, boy!” thundered a deep baritone voice. “I need armor repaired.”

Bristling, Sam turned to tell the customer that he would be right with him. He stopped short when he saw it was The Wall. 

The Wall glowered down at him. “Well?”

Dean suddenly stepped closer to Sam. “Sir, you’ll have to wait your turn like everyone else.”

The Wall’s upper lip morphed into a snarl. “I’m not like everyone else, Winchester. You’ll find out soon enough.”

Dean smiled, seeming unruffled by the man’s size or aggression. “Seems you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Get used to it.”

Dean chuckled, but it wasn’t the warm laughter Sam had heard earlier. It had a hardness to it. “What’s your name?”

The Wall’s mouth parted in what Sam thought might be a smile, though it looked more like a wince. “Taron Hughes.”

“Well then, Hughes, I’ll look forward to besting you in the tournament.”

Hughes took a step forward and shoved Dean. To his credit, Dean held his ground admirably, his eyes narrowing in anger. 

“Your daddy won’t be around to save you here,” Hughes said, his voice thick with menace.

Dean straightened to his full height and glared at the man. “I don’t need anyone to save me from you. I saw you at the tournament in Dungannon a few months ago. I feel pretty good about my chances.”

Hughes growled and moved to shove Dean again, but a few men appeared at the shop’s entrance and stalled his attack. He’d be disqualified and risk losing his knighthood if he got caught displaying unchivalrous behavior, and he apparently wasn’t willing to risk it. 

“Dean! Where the hell have you been, man?” asked one of the men. He had shoulder-length brown hair and crystal blue eyes. 

“Hey, Lee. Just talking with Sam here about tending to my sword.”

“Maybe Sam should do less talking and more work,” Hughes spat.

Pellegrino walked in at that moment. “He’s right, Sam. Get back to work.” Then he turned to the rest of the men. “What can I do for you gentlemen?”

Sam wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or annoyed, but he was glad to be out of Hughes’s line of sight when he moved to the back room in the shop to get some more supplies. As he left, he heard Dean call out, “I’ll bring that list soon, Sam!”


	4. Chapter 4

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Three *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_Crest Haven: Early Morning_  
_Sunday – Six Days Before the Tournament_

Dean Winchester woke up feeling irritated. He crawled out of his bed and gave himself a rinse with the water from the pitcher on a small table by his bed. After a quick self-assessment, he vowed to make time for a full bath in the nearby river after officially registering for the tournament. 

Dean didn’t want to admit it, but deep down he knew why he’d awakened so annoyed. He’d been waylaid by his friends yesterday in the late afternoon and had been unable to go back to the smithy to visit Sam and give him the list he’d promised. Instead, he’d sent his squire Brian on the errand. And while Brian was perfectly capable of carrying out the task, Dean was missing out on the chance to spend more time with the blacksmith’s charming apprentice.

Sam. Dean dried his face with a small towel and let his mind wander back to their meeting yesterday. He didn’t remember another time in his life when he’d done a physical double-take at seeing someone so strikingly handsome, despite his somewhat bedraggled appearance at the time. He smiled when he thought about how he might’ve sprained his neck jerking it that hard. Clearly Sam was young, but Dean knew from the boy’s muscular build that he had to be in his late teens. Dean put his age around seventeen or eighteen. Sam had that sinewy look of a teenaged boy just starting to grow into the man he was destined to become. 

“C’mon, Winchester, time to go!” came a loud voice from outside Dean’s tent.

“Two minutes,” Dean replied, and hustled to dress.

He emerged from his tent a few minutes later to find his friends Lee Webb, Jesse Cuevas, and Garth Fitzgerald waiting for him.

“Let’s go! I want to see who I’ll be up against first,” Jesse said impatiently.

“You mean who you’ll lose to first,” Lee teased, and then turned toward the registration area. His friends fell into step beside him.

“You think you’ll last longer?”

“I know it.”

“Put your money where your mouth is, Webb,” Jesse challenged with a playful punch to Lee's shoulder.

“How much you willing to lose?”

“I won’t lose. Ten silver.”

Lee laughed. “Coward. At least make it worthwhile. Twenty.”

“Done.”

Dean clapped Jesse on the shoulder. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Jesse’s mouth dropped open. “Hey! Where’s the faith, man?”

The men all laughed in response and hurried off to the registration booth.

Dean stepped aside when his registration was completed. He moved closer to Lee and said in a low voice, “Hughes is officially signed up.”

Lee nodded grimly. “I saw that, too.”

“Our little run-in at the smithy was interesting.”

Lee grinned. “Was he making goo-goo eyes at your boy?”

Dean scowled. “What the hell are you talking about?” Of course, he knew exactly what Lee meant, but he wasn’t about to admit it.

“I saw how you were looking at that kid.”

“What kid?”

Lee barked a laugh. “You are so full of it, Winchester!”

Dean hoped his cheeks weren’t as red as they suddenly felt. “It was a professional transaction. I was asking him to fix my sword.”

“Did you show him how _long_ and _thick_ your sword is? Perhaps ask him to _polish_ it for you?”

Dean rolled his eyes and shoved Lee playfully. “Shut up. He’s a sweet kid. That bastard better leave him alone.”

Lee sobered. “Hughes is formidable. I heard he once killed a man by crushing his skull with his bare hands.”

“Then we’d best not let him get too close to us during the tournament.”

“You think?” Lee's voice was thick with sarcasm.

Dean chuckled softly. “He’s a big guy, no question. But you know what they say.”

“The bigger they are, the harder they hit?”

“Idiot,” Dean replied with a soft laugh and a shake of his head. “I saw him fight a few months ago in Dungannon when Dad and I were there to meet the king.”

Lee made a noise of disgust. “I’m so glad I didn’t have to go that time. If I never see Dungannon again, it will be too soon.”

“Yeah, it’s not the nicest place.”

“When I was there a year ago, the people were rude, the taverns served swill, and the, uh, companionship selection was the worst I’ve ever seen.”

“The gossip is that the king of Dungannon pardoned Hughes for a terrible crime in exchange for his complete loyalty in guarding the king himself.”

“So the guy’s a criminal but the king let him keep his knighthood?”

“That’s the rumor,” answered Dean softly. He sighed. “I really need this win.”

“It’s your first tournament, Dean. You’ve only been a knight for a couple of months. Stop putting so much pressure on yourself.”

“You know why I do.”

“Yes, I do, and as I’ve told you before, it’s stupid. Every man in King Michael’s army has seen you fight and knows you deserved the title. You put in your time as squire just like the rest of us.”

“It’s more than that. I want money to buy land of my own.”

“You’ll get there. Patience, my friend. Patience.”

“I’m not so good with patience.”

“I’m well aware.”

“Bite me, Webb.”

“I would, but I think you’d taste bitter. I believe I prefer _that_,” said Lee, pointing at a beautiful buxom young lady who was admiring a piece of jewelry at a vending table.

“Get out of here then.”

Lee took a few steps toward the woman and then turned around, continuing to walk backwards as he told Dean, “Go see your boy.” Then he turned back around and made his way through the crowd to the table.

Dean decided to do just that.


	5. Chapter 5

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Four *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Sam set aside the repaired helm and sighed as he picked up the bronze gauntlet. Hughes had left his two pieces of armor with Pellegrino yesterday after his encounter with Dean, and Sam had been working on them since. He just had to polish up the gauntlet and he’d be finished with the work. Then he had to run home to meet Bobby Singer for his weekly healing lesson.

He paused in his task to pull out the piece of parchment from the pocket in his apron. Dean’s squire had delivered a letter yesterday along with Dean’s sword, and Sam couldn’t seem to get his mind off of it. Dean had a bold hand and Sam read his letter again for the tenth time that day:

_Dear Sam,_

_My sincerest apologies for not delivering these requests to you in person. I plan to return to the shop tomorrow in case you have any questions._

_I would like to request the following:_

_ New sword grip_  
 _Sharpened blade_  
 _Polished blade and hilt_

_I look forward to seeing you again soon._

_Respectfully Yours,  
Dean Winchester_

Sam grinned and ran his forefinger across the lettering. His stomach fluttered and he let out a dreamy sigh.

He gasped when the parchment was snatched from his hand. Whirling around, he found himself staring at Hughes’s enormous chest. His eyes widened in shock.

“What have we here?”

Sam surprised himself by snapping, “It’s private!” He reached to grab the letter back, but Hughes held it easily out of Sam’s reach.

Hughes read the letter and then turned a dark look on Sam. “Sounds like Winchester’s smitten.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just a work order.”

Hughes stepped forward, and Sam found himself stepping backwards despite his best effort not to. The giant put on a falsetto voice and mimicked, “’I look forward to seeing you again.’” He took another step forward, herding Sam farther from the shop’s entrance. “Sounds like a man who knows what he wants.”

“He’s just a customer,” replied Sam. He hated how his voice quavered a bit. “I have your armor repaired. I just need to polish it and you can take it.”

Hughes kept maneuvering Sam backwards slowly, so Sam tried to dart around him, but Hughes’s beefy arm shot out and kept him from leaving. “What’s your hurry, boy?” he drawled with a sneer.

“Please move, sir.” Sam fought to keep his voice firm and steady.

“I don’t think so. Now I think I need something else from you before I go.”

“W-what do you want?” Sam tried to move sideways to put more space in between himself and Hughes, but Hughes wasn’t allowing any breathing room.

“I need Winchester distracted for this tournament.”

Sam’s brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “I…I don’t see how I can help you with that.”

“You’re distracting.”

“No, no,” Sam shook his head. “I’m just an apprentice. Dean doesn’t even know me.”

Hughes’s mouth turned into a feral smile. “Oh so it’s ‘Dean,’ is it?”

Sam’s heart rabbited in his chest. “Move, sir.”

Hughes reached out and clamped Sam’s neck in one large hand, pushing him up against the wall near the back corner of the shop. Sam first grabbed the man’s thick fingers, trying to pry them off. Realizing that was a futile effort, he thrust his arm out to the nearby worktable trying to grab any of the iron tools scattered about on its surface. They all lay just out of reach.

He kicked out at Hughes’s shins at the same time he aimed for the man’s eyes with his fingers and thumbs, scratching and poking, trying to hit a vulnerable spot.

“Damnit!” exclaimed Hughes, his grip loosening enough for Sam to wrench himself free. Sam dove as far away as he could, rolling to his feet. He had made it about ten feet when Hughes’s massive hand clutched a fistful of Sam’s hair. Hughes yanked Sam backward again, pulling him close to his chest so he could trap him in his powerful arms.

“Let go of me, you bastard!”

Sam struggled as hard as he could against Hughes’s vice-like grip. This time, Hughes had angled himself in such a way that Sam couldn’t kick him with any force, and his arms were pinned at his sides.

“Now that’s not nice, Sam. What would Pellegrino say about you treating paying customers like this?”

Sam gritted his teeth. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Or what, boy?” asked Hughes, bending his head down to growl softly into Sam’s ear. “Just what exactly will you do if I say no?”

Without warning, Sam leaned his head back and to the side. He lunged his mouth toward Hughes’s jaw and bit down as hard as he could.

Hughes yelped in surprise, his hold on Sam loosening again. “You fucking little prick!”

Sam knew he didn’t have time to run, so he dove toward the workbench, trying to grab the first iron tool he came across. His fingers touched a small hammer, but before he could get a firm grasp on it, Hughes yanked him back.

Sam tried to maneuver himself to kick or knee the man’s groin, but Hughes swept his arm across the worktable’s surface, knocking all of the tools to the floor. He swung Sam around like a rag doll, bending his upper body over the tabletop and pinning him there with one arm twisted up behind his back.

“Stop!” shouted Sam, resisting as hard as he could against the immovable body behind him. 

Hughes yanked Sam’s apron off over his head and threw it aside. He then ripped the cotton shirt and tossed it on the floor next to the apron.

“I can see why Winchester likes you,” he growled, running his thick fingers roughly down Sam’s bare back. “You have spirit.”

“Let me go!” Sam’s voice rose to a shriek. Realization of what was about to happen sank in, along with the knowledge that he didn’t have the strength or even the magic to stop it. He struggled anew when Hughes’s hand reached for the drawstring on Sam’s breeches and tore it off, shoving the material down his long legs.

“Stop! Help!” yelled Sam, but he knew Pellegrino wasn’t anywhere nearby. Worse, he was far enough inside the shop that the noise from the carriages and other street traffic overrode his cries for help.

“Quiet now, boy,” grunted Hughes, grabbing a fistful of hair and driving Sam’s head painfully into the wooden table.

Pain flooded Sam’s forehead and temple and his vision blurred a bit.

“Relax, boy. This won’t take long.”

“Bet you say that to all your partners,” came a voice from behind Hughes.

Before Hughes could fully turn around and see who it was, Dean swung a cold branding iron at the man’s head, striking him squarely at the base of his skull. The giant man crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Sam crouched low to the ground to cover himself. He was shaking violently and couldn’t stop it. 

Dean knelt beside him. “Sam, are you okay?” He started to reach out and check Sam for signs of obvious injuries, but Sam flinched slightly at the movement, so Dean pulled back.

Sam just shook his head. 

“I got you, buddy. It’s gonna be okay.” 

Dean unfastened his cloak and shifted so he could cover Sam up with it. “Sammy, did he—” Dean’s voice caught on the word. He cleared his throat. He tried again but couldn’t get the question out.

Sam was mortified. He was huddled in the shop nearly naked in front of a knight he’d only just met. Dean had seen him bared and unable to fight back. This fearless knight had just saved him from rape, and Sam couldn’t even hold it together to thank his protector. 

Finally, Sam took a deep breath and shook his head. “You got here just in time,” he said softly.

Dean threaded his fingers into Sam’s thick hair and sighed heavily. “Thank God. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

Sam cleared his throat and gently pulled away. “You need to get out of here before he wakes up.”

“What? I’m not leaving until we report this to the magistrate.”

Sam’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of having to tell anyone else what had happened. “Dean, you can’t report this.”

Incredulous, Dean asked, “What do you mean? That monster was about to rape you!”

Wincing at the word, Sam kept his voice even. “But he didn’t. And nobody would believe me if I filed a report about it.”

“Sammy, I saw him attacking you!”

“It’s Sam.”

“What?” asked Dean, brought up short by the offhand comment.

“I prefer to go by Sam, not Sammy.”

“Oh,” answered Dean, surprised at the odd timing of the comment.

“Listen to me,” Sam said quietly, taking another steadying breath. “Even if you stood up for me, this is still not something I’m willing to report.”

“He should be arrested.”

“Nobody cares about something that almost happened to a blacksmith’s apprentice. I’m fine. I don’t want to be famous for being the weakling who couldn’t fight back.”

“C’mon, Sam, that man is a freak of nature. Nobody could’ve fought back against that.”

“_You_ could’ve.”

Dean placed a hand gently on Sam’s shoulder. “Listen to me. He surprised you, and you were unarmed with no protective gear. Nobody in that position would’ve stood a chance.”

Sam didn’t feel like arguing, so he said nothing.

“C’mon, buddy, let’s get you safely home and get you cleaned up, okay?”

Nodding, Sam stood on shaky legs, covering himself tightly in Dean’s cloak. He tugged at the remnants of his pants to pull them up as much as he could, and held them in place with one hand and the cloak with the other.

“How far away is your house?”

“Not far.”

“Let’s ride Nero so you don’t have to walk it.”

“I don’t mind walking. Nero shouldn’t have to carry all that extra weight.”

Dean smiled fondly. “No wonder animals love you. Don’t worry. Nero is very strong, and he won’t mind.”

With one last look at the unconscious man on the floor, Dean asked, “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to report him?”

Sam nodded, then turned to walk toward Nero.

“He’s sure gonna be pissed at me when he wakes up.”

Sam was afraid of exactly that.


	6. Chapter 6

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Five *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_Later Sunday Evening_

Dean studied the outside of Sam’s house with interest. It was a simple design crafted of wood with stone accents; yet, it looked inviting in a way his own home in Calden was not. Sheila’s colorful flowers lined the walkway to the front steps, and there were hand-painted pottery planters filled with ferns on the front porch. He hopped off of Nero and helped Sam down.

“This is where you grew up?”

“Yeah. I’m sure it’s not as nice as your house in Calden.”

“It’s awesome. I can’t wait to meet your folks.”

Sam opened the front door and led the way inside. “Dad? Mom?” he called out.

Sheila came into the room and gasped when she saw the boy whom she had truly come to think of as her son. “Sam, what happened to your face and clothes?”

“I had a run-in with a customer at the shop. Dean intervened for me.”

Sheila frowned, taking in the cut on his forehead and ripped clothing. “What kind of run-in was it, exactly?”

Dean decided to try to rescue Sam by distracting his host. “Hello, ma’am, I’m Dean Winchester from Calden.” He held out his hand to her.

“Oh,” she said, as if just noticing Dean was there. “Hello, De—” she paused as she reached out, and Dean thought he saw her face grow paler. “Did you say Dean Winchester?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He was confused by her reaction, but she shook his hand firmly. 

“I…I’ve met your father, John. He and my husband, Ed, fought together years ago.”

“Really? What a small world,” replied Dean with a smile.

“Mom, I need to go upstairs and get cleaned up. Can you fix Dean a bite to eat while I’m gone?”

“Sure, honey. I’ll make something for you, too, when you’ve finished.”

“Thanks. Make yourself at home,” he told Dean, and trotted up the nearby stairs.

“Please join me in the kitchen,” Sheila said, leading the way down the hall to the kitchen area.

“May I get you a drink?”

Dean pulled out a wooden stool and sat at the kitchen table. “I’d like that, ma’am. Anything’s fine.”

“Please, call me Sheila,” she told him, opening a cabinet. “And it seems to me like you could use something with a little kick to it.”

Dean smiled and nodded. “That obvious?”

“Sam thinks he’s a good liar, but he’s terrible. Just how bad was this run-in he had?” Sheila reached for two mugs and filled them with liquid from a pitcher.

“I think I should let Sam tell you when he’s ready.”

Sheila studied him for a moment, then handed him a full mug of mead. “You intervened?”

Dean nodded but said nothing. He took a sip of mead.

“I see. Thank you for helping him.” She sipped from her own mug. “So how did you and Sam meet? I wouldn’t normally expect a knight to run in the same circles as a blacksmith’s apprentice.”

“Well, Sam is anything but normal,” said Dean, grinning. He didn’t notice when Sheila blanched a bit at his words. “He was repairing my sword for me.”

“Ah,” said Sheila with a small nod. “You’re just here for the tournament then?”

“Yes, ma’am. My first one since being knighted a couple months ago.”

She gave him a small smile. “I’m sure you’ll do well. Your father is a great fighter.”

“He is indeed.” Dean sighed and sat back a little. “That’s the problem, really.”

“How so?”

“A lot of people think I only got knighted because of who my father is.”

“Sheila? You home?” came a gruff male voice from the entryway.

“Back here, Bobby!” she called.

A middle-aged man with a reddish-brown beard entered the kitchen. “Where’s the idjit? He was supposed to meet me for a lesson a half-hour ago.”

“He got held up at the shop. He’s upstairs cleaning up. Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure.” Bobby turned to look at Dean. “And who might you be?”

“Dean Winchester, sir.”

“Bobby Singer.” 

The two men shook hands. “Winchester, eh? From Calden by chance?”

“Yes, sir. How’d you know?”

“I’ve met your father.”

Dean smiled. “Seems my father is more well-known than I realized.”

“So how’d you and Sam meet?” Bobby asked. “He’s a bit outside your usual social circles.”

Dean wondered why it seemed such a surprise that he and Sam had met, and was about to answer the question when Sam walked in. 

Sam grabbed an apple from a wooden bowl. “I’m a blacksmith who repairs swords. He’s a knight who uses a sword. No mystery there.” Sam bit into his apple. His change of clothes and a few minutes alone seemed to have settled his nerves a bit. In fact, if Dean hadn’t known what had almost happened, he’d never have guessed Sam had been attacked so violently just a short time ago.

“A match made in heaven,” Dean said with a huge grin. Sam blushed, and Dean took another drink.

Sheila and Bobby exchanged looks. Sheila handed Bobby a mug of mead and said, “It seems Dean was able to help Sam out with an altercation with another customer earlier.”

Sam shuffled uncomfortably while Bobby glanced between the two younger men, giving Dean a small nod. “Then I guess it’s fortunate your sword needed repair.”

He turned his attention back to his student. “Well, Sam, do you feel up to having a lesson today?”

“I think I need to skip it today if that’s okay with you.”

“Okay. But with the tournament coming up, you could use all the preparation you can get.”

“Preparation for what?” asked Dean, curious.

“Sam is going to help out at the injury tent during the tournament. He’s been studying potions and healing with me.”

“Ah, so that’s how you knew how to fix Nero’s hoof.”

Sam nodded. “That, and I’ve spent a lot of time with horses.”

“Do you have one?” asked Dean.

Sam shook his head slightly. “Not yet. I’ve always wanted one, though.”

Bobby scoffed. “Bottomless pits that eat you out of house and home. Got your own two young legs to walk around on, Sam. You should invest in something more worthwhile than a bag of bones.”

“So you’ve said. Every year since I can remember,” Sam told him and took another bite of his apple.

“If you don’t want to hear it, then stop asking for a horse for your birthday every year.”

“Never,” quipped Sam, and gave Bobby a little smile. Dean was glad to see Sam smile again, however small.

Bobby drained his mug and sat it on the table. “All right, boys, Sheila. If there’s no lesson, I should be off. Thanks for the drink.”

“Anytime,” Sheila answered, and Bobby walked out.

Sheila puttered around the kitchen for a few more minutes, pulling out cheeses and bread and leftover stew and putting everything on a wooden platter. She placed it on the table in front of Dean and Sam. “Dig in.”

The boys ate in companionable silence. Sheila leaned against the counter sipping her mead, watching them closely. 

When Dean draped his arm around Sam’s shoulders as they ate, Sheila’s eyes widened slightly.

A half-hour later, Dean stood up and sighed, full and satisfied. “Thank you so much for the meal. It was delicious. I’m afraid I must be getting back to meet my friends.”

She smiled. Dean was incredibly handsome and charming, just like his father. “My pleasure. You’re welcome here any time.”

Sam stood and walked to the front door with Dean. Dean turned to him and said, “You could come with us. We’re just going out to The Dirty Duck for drinks. It might…I dunno…take your mind off things?”

Sam smiled sadly. “Thank you very much for the offer, but I don’t think anything will take my mind off what happened earlier for a long time.”

“I know. I just…wish I could help.”

“You already did. So much.” Sam hugged Dean tightly. “Thank you for what you did. I hope it doesn’t cause you too much trouble.”

Dean squeezed Sam tightly in return. “Don’t care if it does. I would never let anything bad happen to you, Sammy.”

Sam pulled away and chuckled. “Sam.”

“That’s what I said.” Dean winked and left the house.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜

Sam went to bed with a headache shortly after Dean left. When Ed finally got home, Sheila pulled him by the hand into the kitchen.

“What is it?” he asked.

She held her finger to her lips and pointed upstairs to indicate that Sam shouldn’t overhear. Ed nodded, and she told him in a hushed voice: “We have a serious problem.”


	7. Chapter 7

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Six *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_Monday: Five Days Before the Tournament_

Dean was checking the wear and tear of each piece of his equipment when his squire poked his head into Dean’s tent. 

“Do you have a moment, sir?”

“Sure, Brian, come in.”

“I hope I’ve been doing a good job for you, sir,” Brian said, looking down at his feet.

“Everything’s fine, why? Is there a concern?”

“I was wondering if it would be possible, sir, to request a pay raise.”

Dean’s eyebrows winged up. “A pay raise?”

“Yes, sir. Right now you pay me fifty coppers a day. I’d like to request a silver coin per day. Or perhaps a percentage of any winnings, if that’s easier.”

Dean thought about the proposal for a few moments before saying, “Unfortunately, Brian, I can’t really afford the extra expense right now. May I ask what brought this on?”

“I, uh…well, I had an offer from someone else to pay me more per day, so I wanted to check with you to see if you could match it. I’d rather squire for you, sir. But I could use the extra money, too.”

“Mind if I ask who?”

Brian blushed. “It’s Taron Hughes, sir.”

Dean nodded. He’d expected as much. Just an underhanded attempt to distract Dean before the tournament. “Well, I won’t stand in your way, Brian, but you should know that I can’t recommend you make this choice. I’ve seen the kind of man Hughes is, and I worry that you won’t be entirely safe if you squire for him.”

Brian nodded. “I’ve heard the rumors, too, sir. I’ll be careful. I really just need the extra money to care for my family.”

Dean struggled not to tell Brian exactly what kind of man Hughes was, but he couldn’t do so without betraying Sam’s confidence, and there was no way he would ever do that. 

“All right, then,” he said, holding out his hand. “I wish you all the best.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” replied Brian, shaking hands. “It means a lot. Best of luck in the tournament, sir.”

After Brian left, Dean sighed. “I’ll need it,” he muttered.

He donned his leather gloves, flexing his fingers, and wondered where he could find a squire on such short notice. At any rate, he decided, the problem would have to wait till after his visit to the smithy. He wanted to make sure Sam was okay after his return to work, and also make sure Pellegrino was around to offer protection, meager though it would be against Hughes.

Dean swung himself into the saddle and nudged Nero forward. It’s not like he needed a squire for anything too strenuous. He could forego the battle training aspect, just as long as the boy could clean his armor, sharpen his blades, tend to Nero, and—

Dean beamed at his sudden epiphany and urged Nero into a fast trot.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜

Dean halted in front of the smith shop and dismounted. 

“Sam?” he called out as he entered. 

There was no answer. The forges that normally blazed molten hot contained only embers. There was no sign of Pellegrino, either, which worried Dean. He gave one more shout for Sam before exiting and swinging back onto Nero. He galloped toward Sam’s house, fighting back the surge of fear clutching at his heart. Hughes could’ve easily come back to the shop and accosted Sam again since that good for nothing Pellegrino was never around. Dean hated to imagine what would happen to Sam if Hughes had come back. He spurred Nero faster.

“Dean!” Sam called out in surprise when Dean galloped up the path to the house, kicking up a cloud of dust as he pulled Nero to an abrupt halt. Sam was on his knees holding a plant, and his hands were filthy.

“There you are,” said Dean a bit breathlessly, dismounting with a graceful hop.

“Yeah. I didn’t go into work today.”

Dean took a moment to appreciate that Sam was safe at home. Taking a deep breath, he struggled to calm his racing pulse. “Yeah, I know. I was just at the shop and didn’t see any sign of you being there. Looks like Pellegrino’s nowhere to be seen either.”

Sam carefully placed the plant into a freshly dug hole in front of him. “That’s no surprise. He’s almost never around until I don’t want him to be.” He started replacing dirt around the base of the plant.

“Seems that way. So you’re doing all the work, but he takes all the credit. Is that it?”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, that hardly seems fair.”

Sam smiled bitterly. “Welcome to life.”

Dean didn’t like the look of bitterness on Sam’s face. “So,” he said, walking closer. “You’re a blacksmith, a healer, a horse whisperer, and a gardener?”

“Jack of all trades, master of none.”

“I don’t know about that last part. I saw how well you tended Nero, and I’ve seen the swords you made at the sword stand at the smith shop.” He smiled. “How would you like to add another job to the list?”

Sam stood and brushed dirt from his knees, and then rubbed his hands together to clean them as best he could. “Such as?”

“Squire.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Squire? For whom?”

“Me.”

“But…you have a squire. Brian. I met him the other day.”

“Had. He quit this morning.”

Sam’s mouth fell open slightly. A squire. For Dean. His heart sped up at the idea. To buy some time, Sam cleared his throat softly and tried to slow the adrenalin speeding through his veins. “What exactly do you need?” 

“During this tournament, I’ll need someone to clean and polish my armor and weapons. Someone good with horses who can handle Nero. I’ve seen you handle horses and weapons already, and I can’t think of anyone more qualified than you.”

“So…just for the tournament?”

“It’ll be like a trial period to see if you like it.”

Sam smirked. “You mean to see if you like it.”

“It will be a mutual trial period.” Dean grinned.

“I’ll need permission from Pellegrino and my parents.”

“Then let’s go in and ask, shall we?”

Sam turned and headed for the front door. He opened it and turned to face Dean again. “Just to be clear, this does not give you permission to call me Sammy.”

“Whatever you say, Sammy.”

Sam groaned. “Such a jerk.”

“Bitch.”


	8. Chapter 8

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Seven *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Both boys were still chuckling and shoving each other playfully when they walked into the kitchen and found Ed, Sheila, and Bobby sitting at the table.

“Well you two are in a good mood,” commented Bobby.

“Sam is my new hero.”

All three adults wore surprised expressions. Ed looked at Dean and asked, “How’s that?”

Dean reached out and offered his hand to Ed. “You must be Mr. Winslow. I’m Dean Winchester. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He waited until Ed completed the handshake, and then explained, “My squire quit on me this morning without any notice. I’ve asked Sam to take his place for the duration of the tournament. He’s agreed to it, but we need your permission.”

Ed’s face reddened. “Absolutely not.”

Sam’s mouth fell open in shock. “But…Dad…why not? I can do it. I know all about weaponry and armor. I can fix things. I can tend Nero.”

Ed held up his hand. “I know all that, Sam. You’d be a fantastic squire. But you have other duties. You’ve committed to being Pellegrino’s apprentice. If you screw that up, he’ll fire you and you’ll have nothing.”

“I have lots of other things!” argued Sam. “Bobby’s taught me all about healing. I can work as a healer just about anywhere. I can heal people or animals.”

“That’s another thing,” Ed told him. “You were supposed to work at the injury tent at the tournament and help Bobby tend wounds. You can’t just leave him in the lurch.”

Sam looked at Bobby, his expression beseeching. Bobby glanced away and cleared his throat. “Well,” Bobby said quietly, “I can probably find some other help if I need to,” he said quietly. 

Dean studied Ed’s frustrated expression. He couldn’t quite determine what Ed’s objections were to this arrangement. “Sir, if you’re worried about Sam being paid a fair wage, I can assure you I intend to pay him for his hard work.”

“No, no. It’s not that.”

“I also understand that I’ll need permission from Pellegrino to allow Sam the time off to attend to his squire duties. I fully intend to compensate Pellegrino for the time Sam spends away from his current job.”

Sam looked at Dean, surprised. “Y-You do?”

“Of course.” Dean had just made that decision ten seconds ago, but he meant every word.

Sam leaned closer and whispered in Dean’s ear, “Can you afford that?”

“Whatever it takes,” Dean said without looking at Sam. He was looking Ed squarely in the eye. “I could really use the help. I also think being an insider at a tournament will give him further knowledge that he can apply to his smithing duties.”

Bobby sighed. “Ed, Sheila, I know I don’t have the final say here, but I have to admit it looks as if the boys have already thought this through. I’m not sure it’ll hurt any to have Sam spend a few days as a squire. I think Dean’s right; it’ll actually be good experience. How much trouble could they get into in just a few days?”

Sam put on the strongest pleading face he could muster, making full use of his hazel eyes. The expression had served him well since he’d been old enough to understand how to use it, and he desperately hoped it would work again. 

Ed sighed heavily and rubbed his face. Finally, he pointed a finger at Dean. “I heard there was some kind of altercation at the smithy yesterday. I expect you to watch out for Sam while he’s working for you.”

“Always, sir.”

“I’ll watch out for Dean, too.”

“Of course you will,” Sheila agreed.

“Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mom.” Sam gave Dean’s arm a quick backhanded tap. “Let’s go talk to Pellegrino. I can’t wait to get started!”

Sam turned and bounded out of the room. Dean grinned and bowed before following Sam out the door.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜

_Monday Evening_

The Dirty Duck was much more crowded than usual due to all the tournament traffic. Dean had flashed a charming smile at one of the barmaids, and she’d found the boys a prime corner booth with as much privacy as possible given the crowd.

“I can’t believe Pellegrino said yes,” said Sam, still beaming after their successful conversation with his boss.

“I’m not surprised. Money talks.” Dean sipped his ale and relaxed back against the smooth, dark wood of the booth.

“Are you sure you don’t mind paying him? You could probably find a squire just about anywhere without having to pay off anyone else to hire him.”

Dean leveled his gaze on Sam. His new squire’s mahogany hair curled around his ears and flipped up just slightly at the ends. His young eyes looked worried. “I’m not looking for just any squire. I need someone with your skill set.” He smirked. “And I like your dimples.”

Sam grinned and blushed. He was about to respond when a waitress approached their table. 

“Can I get you something a little stronger to drink, love?” she asked Sam, pointing at his glass of water. She leaned down so that her ample bosom pressed against his shoulder.

Sam’s face turned a deeper red as he stammered, “Uh…n-no, I’m fine.” Sam had only had sips of ale from Ed’s or Bobby’s cups a few times over the last year. He didn’t like the taste all that much.

“Perhaps I can get you something else?” she offered, stroking his hair and rubbing shamelessly against him.

Sam pulled away as much as the booth allowed. “No, thank you.”

The girl sighed and turned to Dean. “Another ale for you?”

“Please.”

She made her way to the next table. Dean smiled at Sam but said nothing.

“What?”

“You know, most young men would’ve been thrilled to have a girl that pretty rubbing up against them.”

Sam scoffed and sipped his water, saying nothing.

“You don’t think she’s pretty?”

“She’s lovely.”

It suddenly occurred to Dean that perhaps Sam already had a love interest. “Are you already courting a girl, then?”

Sam shook his head and studied his water glass to avoid Dean’s observant gaze.

“A young man, then, perhaps?”

Sam’s eyes shot up to check out Dean’s expression. His eyebrows were slightly raised in question as he waited for Sam’s answer. 

“Not courting anyone,” replied Sam in a soft voice. He took a swig of water just to have something to do with his hands.

“So…why not take advantage of what she was offering?”

“I’m busy celebrating with you.”

“I’m touched, but you know I’ll understand if you want to go have a little fun.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “But…I’m already having fun.”

Grinning wide now, Dean leaned forward and folded his hands together on the table. “I’m flattered, and I’m having fun, too. But that’s not the kind of fun I mean.”

“Then what d—” Sam started, and stopped short. “Oh.” His face flamed. Dean must think him a complete idiot.

“Sam…it’s okay to be a bit nervous. It’s normal when it’s your first time.”

“I never said it would be my first time!” snapped Sam.

“Oh, so you’ve got some experience with that sort of thing, then?”

Sam folded his arms and sighed heavily. “Is having sexual experience required for squire duties?”

Dean gave him a confused look. “Of course not. Why?”

“Then it’s none of your business how much experience I have.”

“Okay, okay,” replied Dean, his hands held up in a placating gesture. “Just making conversation. No offense intended.”

The waitress brought Dean another mug of ale and he winked at her in thanks. She giggled and sashayed slowly from the table, putting on a good show for him.

Sam shook his head but said nothing.

“What? You just said she’s lovely.”

“You know, if you wanted to…have some fun with her, I would understand.”

Something about the way Sam said it gave Dean pause. Sam ran his fingertip around the rim of his water glass and didn’t look at Dean as he waited for a response.

“Well, the thing is…I have two choices. Stay here and talk with you, or go off and see what she has to offer.”

Sam glanced up, his eyebrow slightly raised.

“I have a pretty good idea of what she has to offer. So, I think I’ll stay here and talk with you instead.”

Sam’s mouth turned up in a big smile. “I’d like that.”

Dean took another swig of his ale and sat back against the dark paneling of the booth again. “You know, I had a little brother named Sam.”

“You did?”

Nodding, Dean continued, “He would’ve been about your age now. He died when I was about seven years old.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Dean shrugged. “Just one of those things in life, I guess.” Even though Dean’s voice was very matter-of-fact, Sam noticed the faraway look in his mossy-green eyes and the flash of sadness across his face when he mentioned his brother.

“I always thought it would be fun to have a brother.”

“Any sisters?”

Sam shook his head. “I’m adopted. Mom and Dad took me in when I was very little.”

“Do you mind if I ask what happened to your birth parents?”

“Dad told me they both died in an accident while traveling.”

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard.”

Sam smiled softly. “I don’t really remember them, actually. I think the hardest part is just wondering about them, and knowing I’ll never have the chance to know them.”

“Ed and Sheila seem like great people.”

Nodding, Sam sipped his water. “They are. Uncle Bobby, too. He’s not really my uncle, but he’s like family. He taught me everything I know about healing and plants.” And magic, Sam added to himself. But he figured it was best to keep that tidbit to himself. 

“I noticed the cut on your forehead is nearly gone. I can’t believe how fast it healed. You must really know your stuff.”

Sam self-consciously fingered his smooth forehead where his injury had been. “I’ve always healed pretty fast. Bobby’s the real genius.” 

“So…if you’re a healer and a good gardener, what drew you to Pellegrino’s place?”

“Money.”

Dean smiled. “That’s a common motivator.”

“I’m saving as much as I can so I can travel.”

“You don’t want to stay in Crest Haven?”

“I want to see the world.”

“That’s a big goal. Anywhere in particular?”

“Not really. Just…everywhere. I’d like to go anywhere I’ve never been before to see what’s out there.”

“I saw a lot of it in my travels while I was a squire.”

“You got to travel a lot?”

“Sure. Knights go where there’s a need—or a tournament—and their squires go with them. So I traveled quite a bit.”

“What’s your favorite place you’ve been?”

Dean looked at Sam and smirked. “Crest Haven.”

Sam laughed and shook his head. “Oh, come on. You’re just saying that.”

“Not a word of a lie.” Dean held up his mug and grinned. 

Sam clinked his glass gently on Dean’s mug. “Here’s to finding amazing places.”

“And amazing people,” Dean said softly.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜

_Tournament Grounds – Dean’s Tent  
Monday Night_

By the time the boys arrived back at Dean’s tent, the tournament grounds had quieted considerably, and most people were settled in for the night and preparing to sleep.

“That’s your pallet there,” Dean said, pointing to a thick, rectangular pile of straw covered with a blanket.

“I’m sleeping here?”

“Squires need to sleep close to their knights in case they’re needed. Do you think you’ll have any trouble sleeping there?”

Sam looked at the pallet and felt only relief. He’d enjoyed his day full of distractions, but he knew that the quiet of the night wouldn’t provide the same distraction, and his mind would invariably think back on the attack at the smithy. Being so close to Dean, though, would help him feel a bit safer. 

“No trouble at all. I agree, I’ll feel better sleeping close to be able to help you when you need it. This will be fine,” he said.

Dean looked at him for a few beats, then nodded. “In the morning, I’ll go over with you all the duties you’ll have for the tournament as well as my daily routine.”

“All right. Thank you again for this opportunity. I’m honored to be here.”

“I’m honored to have you here, Sammy.”

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes. “I’ll have to charge extra if you keep calling me Sammy.”

“Then I might just have to pay extra.” Dean winked and began removing his tunic.

Sam shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Should I…help you with that?”

“Nah. Armor, definitely. But clothing is easy. I’m not that spoiled.”

Sam smiled and began undressing, too, until he stood only in his cotton leggings. He folded his breeches and tunic and placed them carefully beside his pallet. He settled on the soft straw and fluffed the bit under his head to form a makeshift pillow. There was a thin, soft blanket to use as a cover if needed, though at the moment he was comfortable.

He watched as a shirtless Dean folded his own clothes and settled on his bed. Sam found himself wondering if Dean’s skin felt as smooth as it looked. Beneath the freckles, hard muscles shifted with each of his movements. Sam wanted to touch those muscles. He wanted to feel the heat of Dean’s skin beneath his fingers. He just…wanted. It made Sam’s stomach flutter in a way he’d never experienced before. 

Dean wore a leather necklace with a pewter pendant of some sort around his neck. It was hard to tell what it was in the candlelight. 

“What’s that on your necklace?” Sam asked.

Dean paused and fingered the pendant with gentle fingers. “My little brother used to play with pewter soldiers. This one was his favorite.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay,” Dean assured him in a low voice. Then, with a small smile, he added, “You should’ve seen it years ago. It was painted with bright colors. It was quite the work of art. Sam had a whole set of them that Dad had given him for Christmas.”

Dean crawled into his bed. “But over time, it’s lost all the paint. So now it’s just grey metal.”

“I think it’s really sweet of you to wear it in remembrance of him. He must’ve been very special.”

Dean blinked at the sudden burn in his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. He generally didn’t spend time dwelling on memories of his brother because, even all these years later, the pain of that loss nearly paralyzed him every time he thought about it. His preferred coping mechanism was to pack things away in his mind, push them deep, and not let them out to see the light of day unless he was absolutely ready to deal with the onslaught of emotions—which was almost never.

“He was.”

“I’m sure he thought you were, too,” Sam said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Dean scoffed. “Some big brother. Where was I when he needed me?”

“What do you mean?”

“My father took Sam on a trip, and that’s when it happened. Sam got sick and died.”

Sam furrowed his brow. “That’s terrible, but I don’t understand how that’s your fault?”

“I should’ve been there.”

Sam propped himself up on an elbow and looked at Dean’s guilt-ridden expression. “How old were you?”

“Seven.”

Confused, Sam said gently, “Dean, what is it you think a seven-year-old boy could do to help his ailing little brother?”

“I don’t know. Something. Anything. I would’ve found a way.” Dean’s voice sounded far away.

Sam didn’t really know what to say to that. There wasn’t anything words could say to alleviate the pain of a loss that great. “I’m sorry that happened, to you and your brother. I think it would’ve been amazing to grow up with a big brother like you.”

Dean lay quiet for several moments, then turned to look at Sam with a smile. “You say that now, but you’d probably have thought me a gigantic pain in your neck.”

Sam grinned. “Probably.”

Dean chuckled and blew out the candle on the bedside table. “We have an early day tomorrow. Goodnight.”

“’Night,” whispered Sam. He settled into a comfortable spot and stared into the blackness of the tent. He closed his eyes and tried to think of the fun evening he and Dean had shared. He tried to block out any dark thoughts and focus only on all of the exciting new things happening in his life. Still, thoughts of bruising hands shoving him brutally kept sneaking into his mind between all the pleasant thoughts. Sleep didn’t come for a long time.


	9. Chapter 9

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Eight *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

Sam jolted awake with a cry. He sat up on his pallet, panting, trying to gain his bearings. Tent. He was in Dean’s tent. He was safe.

“Sam?” asked Dean in a sleep-scratchy voice. “What’s wrong?”

Sam’s heart was still racing from his nightmare. The tent was enveloped in darkness, so dawn was still some time away. He cleared his throat and tried for a normal voice. “Nothing. Sorry to wake you.”

Dean propped himself up on an elbow. It was too dark to see Sam, but he could tell Sam was sitting up. “Bad dream?” he asked gently.

“Yeah. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

For a few moments, Dean didn’t answer. Then: “You know, when I was younger and had nightmares, I used to go to my friend Lee's room and stay with him.”

“You did?” asked Sam, his voice clearly expressing his disbelief.

“I really did. We squired for the same household, so we shared a cottage with two other squires. I had bad dreams for a long time after my brother died. I never liked being alone in the dark when I had those nightmares. So I went and slept with Lee.”

Sam thought about that for a few beats. “Lee never teased you about it?”

“No. That’s not something to tease someone about. So don’t feel bad about needing to be near someone after you have a bad dream.”

“Okay,” whispered Sam. He’d dreamt of The Wall attacking him, reliving every terrifying detail vividly in his subconscious. He’d been fairly successful at compartmentalizing his trauma during the day, but evidently his brain set all those terrible memories free while he slept.

Now he wondered how he would ever live it down if he were to crawl in bed with Dean like a little kid. He lay back on his pallet and tried to calm himself again.

“Sam.”

“Yes?”

“Get your ass up here.”

“W-what?”

“Come on. Stop analyzing it and just get in bed next to me. I won’t bite. Let’s both get back to sleep.”

Sam only hesitated a second before rolling to his feet. He padded the few steps to the bed and crawled in beside Dean. The bed was incredible. Not too soft, not too hard. 

“This is…really generous. Thank you.”

“Mmhmm.” Dean murmured as he shuffled under the covers and turned onto his back. “Night, Sammy.”

Sam didn’t bother to correct him. He just turned onto his side facing Dean and snuggled into the comfort of the bed. He whispered, “Night, De.”

⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜

_Tournament Grounds – Dean’s Tent  
Tuesday Morning_

Dean stretched languidly in bed. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the pallet on the floor. Empty. He sat up in bed and glanced around the tent. Sam wasn’t there.

“Sam?” he called out. When there was no answer, he stood up and began gathering his clothes to dress.

“Morning.”

Dean turned at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Morning.”

“Brought you some breakfast.” Sam set a tray down on the small desk in the corner of the tent. The smell of warm food wafted over to Dean and he hummed in appreciation.

“Thanks. Smells delicious.”

“After breakfast, I think I should head back to the shop today to finish working on your sword. I need to make sure it’s done before the tournament.”

“Think Pellegrino will mind you working in the smithy after we told him you’d be squiring for me?”

Sam chuckled. “I don’t think Pellegrino will even be there.”

“How does the man stay in business when he’s never working?”

“I guess that’s what happens when you own the only smithy for one hundred miles.”

Dean grunted and finished pulling on a jade-green tunic. “Did you eat already?”

“Not yet.”

“Where’s your food?”

“I figured I’d wait till you finished, and then I would grab something.”

“I’d prefer it if you ate with me. Would that be all right with you?”

Sam grinned. “I’d love to. I’ll go get a plate.”

While Sam went to get his own breakfast, Dean stole a piece of bacon from the tray. He settled comfortably in one of the chairs at the table and gave some thought to his strategy for beating Hughes in the tournament. There was no doubt the man would be nursing an enormous grudge and would probably try to bait him so as to distract him or make him reckless. Dean would need to keep a calm head and be careful not to allow his emotions to overwhelm his judgment.

Sam threw the tent flap open and ducked inside with his plate. It was mounded so high with food that Dean wondered how it hadn’t all tumbled to the floor.

“Think that’s enough food?”

Sam glanced at his plate and back at Dean. “I’m not sure. I’ll see how I feel when I’ve finished it.”

Dean laughed. “I was joking. How can someone so thin eat that much?”

Sam grinned and sat beside Dean at the table. “Shaping metal takes a lot of work.”

Dean chuckled and bit into another piece of bacon. They both tucked into their breakfasts hungrily, cleaning their plates within a few minutes. When they finished eating, Dean sat back in his chair and crossed his hands on his stomach. He eyed Sam thoughtfully.

“It’s important to me that you understand you’re not my servant in this relationship. Squires are meant to serve their knights, true, but…it’s more than that. This is a time for you to learn all there is to know about becoming a knight. It’s not just ability with swords or winning tournaments. It’s not just going to war for your king. Being a knight is a part of who you are. It’s about being honest, brave, honorable, generous, kind…helping those less fortunate, and keeping people in your kingdom safe from any threat, be it within your own city’s walls or from outside.”

Sam listened intently and nodded. “I understand.” A stab of guilt zipped through him when Dean had mentioned honesty. Sam knew he hadn’t been entirely forthcoming about his magical abilities yet. He wasn’t sure how Dean would react. Calden was infamous for being intolerant of magic. If Sam told Dean about his magic and Dean didn’t take the news well, Sam would be back to hammering metal in the blink of an eye. When he looked across the table at Dean’s thick lashes framing those mesmerizing eyes, Sam just couldn’t bring himself to risk it. Besides, he knew the squire job was most likely temporary. There was no reason to stir up trouble over a week-long job.

“The other thing that a squire provides is companionship and counsel for the knight. The squire and knight share a deep bond of trust and commitment. Knights are committed to helping their squires reach the goal of becoming knights themselves. This is a strong commitment that usually lasts for years. So, as you can see, the squire’s position is far more valuable and important than just being a servant to fetch a knight’s food or armor.”

“In all my time at the smithy, I’ve met quite a few knights. But I never realized that squires were so important.”

“They are indeed,” Dean told him. Then, after studying Sam’s earnest face for a few beats, Dean added, “I think you have the potential to be a great knight.”

Sam blushed but couldn’t hide his delight at the compliment. “You do?”

Nodding, Dean said, “You’re obviously very intelligent. You’ve picked up many very valuable skills already. Your temperament seems well suited to the life of a knight. You seem to have solid values, which is vital to knighthood. So…yeah. I think you’ll be a fantastic Sir Sam one day.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know. ‘Sir Sam’ sounds very odd to me.”

“I felt the same way the day I was knighted.”

Sam wiped his hands on his napkin and took a sip of water. “I have an etiquette question if that’s all right.”

“Of course. You can always ask me anything.”

“It’s just that I’ve heard you introduce yourself a couple of times now without saying ‘Sir Dean.’ But when you introduced your friends to me before, you used their titles. How come you didn’t introduce yourself to Mom and Dad as ‘Sir Dean’ the other day?”

Dean ducked his head and smiled at his squire’s keen observation. “I never have liked the whole upper- and lower-class system in the world. People are people, in my opinion. Unless I’m addressing royalty, I really prefer that people just call me Dean. I don’t get off on my title like some people do. I’m happy I have it, don’t get me wrong. I spent hard years earning it, and I respect it. I guess I just think it sounds a bit…pompous to go around introducing myself as ‘Sir Dean’ all the time.”

“So you used your friends’ titles when you introduced them to me to show them respect?”

“Yes, exactly. Some knights really get offended if you don’t use their title. My friends aren’t like that, but I still like to use the more formal title when making introductions to show my respect for them.”

“Do you want me to call you ‘Sir Dean’ when we’re in public?”

Dean grinned at him. “I will leave it up to you what you’d like to call me in public. In private, I would prefer that you stick with just calling me Dean.”

“Deal.” Then: “I have one more question. What events are in this tournament?”

“Archery and jousting. Sometimes there’s a melee round, but this competition doesn’t have one.”

“So your archery equipment, armor, and lances should be my focus during the competition.”

“Exactly.” Dean pushed away from the table and stood. “Let’s head over to the training field. I thought maybe we could do some sparring together.”

“All right,” Sam replied. “We can do that right after we get your sword for you.”

⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜

By early afternoon, Dean and Sam were in the training area of the tournament grounds. Dean gave his newly repaired sword a few practice swings.

“This grip feels great.”

“Thanks. I’m happy you like it.”

“You did a fantastic job.”

“Be sure to tell your friends. Maybe I can ditch Pellegrino and start my own smithing business.”

“A traveling smith?” asked Dean with a grin.

Sam chuckled. “Now there’s a thought.”

“Okay, let’s get started with your training.”

Sam gripped his own sword and sighed. “I should warn you that I’m not that interested in fighting.”

“That’s all right. That’s why we train. You’ll get there.”

Sam smiled and readied his stance. “Say when.”

Dean moved his sword into position. “Go!”

Sam made a fast, hard lunge forward, taking Dean completely by surprise. He parried with ease, though, and hopped gracefully out of harm’s way. Sam made three more offensive moves that had Dean scrambling.

“I thought you said you weren’t interested in fighting,” said Dean, putting forward an attack of his own. He swung upward but Sam’s parry was too fast for him to make contact.

“I’m not. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know how.” Sam thrust hard and Dean whirled out of the way, responding with a swing of his own that almost caught Sam’s arm before Sam evaded the maneuver. 

Dean chuckled. “I can see that.”

They kept sparring for the next half-hour until they were both breathless and sweating.

“Hold,” Dean said. He dropped his sword and put his hands on his hips, walking in small circles to catch his breath.

Sam wiped his brow. “I haven’t practiced this hard in a while.”

“I’d never have known. I really am impressed.”

“Thank you.” Sam squinted up at the sun and continued, “It’s hot as blazes out here today.”

“Want to cool off and clean up? We can go to the tavern later.”

“That sounds perfect. I know a great swimming spot.”

Dean grinned and clapped Sam on the back. “Then lead on, Squire.”

⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜

An hour later, the boys were diving into the cool water of Cliff Lake, a large body of water that bordered one half of Crest Haven. As the name implied, the lake was partially bordered by tall, rocky cliff ledges that provided jumping opportunities for adventurous swimmers. 

Sam broke the surface and tossed his head to shake his hair from his face. “This feels so good!”

Dean grinned as he treaded water nearby. “The perfect thing after training. I can’t believe we’re the only ones here. It’s beautiful.”

“I think everyone’s sticking near town because of all the merchants and activities. As soon as the tournament is over, the kids will come back out here in droves.”

“I kinda like it quiet.” Dean leaned back so he was floating on the water and closed his eyes. “Very relaxing.”

Sam dove under and emerged to Dean’s left. He swiped water from his eyes. “Do you want to go up to Suicide Point and do a jump?”

Dean opened one eye and looked at Sam. “Why would anyone think it’s a good decision to jump from a place called ‘Suicide Point?’”

Chuckling, Sam shook his head. “It’s just called that because it’s pretty high up. But it’s completely safe. There are no rocks under the water, or at least not any for a few hundred feet.” 

Dean shaded his eyes with his hand and looked up at the cliff Sam had pointed to. It wasn’t all that bad, and normally he’d be all in for a jump. But with the tournament starting in just a few days, he couldn’t afford any unexpected injuries. 

“I think I’ll save my adrenalin for the tournament. But you go ahead. I’d love to watch you jump.”

Grinning, Sam swam to shore and made his way to the steps that had been carved into the cliff wall. Dean watched with interest. Sam had left his cotton leggings on to swim, but they were now drenched and clinging to every inch of his long legs. He was as good as naked, and Dean bit his lip to keep from moaning out loud at the sight. 

Sam trotted up the stone steps effortlessly and finally took his place at the top of the cliff. He waved at Dean and Dean returned the wave with a grin.

With a gleeful cheer, Sam launched himself from the cliff and rocketed feet first into the water below.

Dean’s smile slowly left his face with each passing second that Sam didn’t reappear. His heart rate picked up when Sam didn’t break the surface again. 

“Sam?!” Dean shouted. There was no sign of movement beneath the cliff where Sam had splashed down. 

Dean started swimming as fast as he could to the spot where he’d last seen Sam. “Sam!”

Something grabbed Dean’s ankle and pulled it hard, dragging Dean below. Adrenalin spiked in his veins and he kicked. 

Dean surfaced again to the sound of Sam’s laughter. 

“Whew, that was close! You nearly got me in the head,” said Sam, wiping the water from his eyes as he continued chuckling.

“Damn it, Sam,” Dean scolded, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “I thought you were in trouble.”

Sam’s chuckle faded and he gave Dean with an apologetic smile. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Dean gave Sam a playful glare. “Oh yeah? Yeah?” He lunged at Sam and pushed down on his shoulders, dunking Sam’s head below the surface.

Sam squirmed and popped his head up, laughing again. He retaliated, but Dean was ready for him. They wrestled for several minutes, first one getting dunked, then the other, both scrabbling for a good hold. 

Sam laughed, struggling to get away. He splashed Dean in the face and shrieked when Dean caught Sam in his arms. They were both laughing when they realized that they were face to face, bare chest pressed against bare chest, legs tangled. Suddenly they both grew quiet and just stared.

Dean’s emerald eyes glittered almost gold in the sunlight, and the water droplets on his eyelashes glistened. Sam was close enough to count each of the light freckles on Dean’s nose. He wondered how long it would take him to actually do it. Unconsciously he leaned into Dean’s warmth, mesmerized by his full lips. Sam’s mouth was nearly touching Dean’s when suddenly Dean pulled away. 

Dean ducked under water again and then came up, rubbing his face. He smiled at Sam. “C’mon, Sammy. Let’s get cleaned up and get to the pub. I’m starving.”

Sam forced a smile and nodded, not letting his confusion show. He had thought Dean felt the same attraction he did after all the flirting and winking, but now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe that’s just how Dean was with everyone. He’d seen Dean wink at the serving girl, too, so perhaps Sam’s intuition had failed him. Maybe he was just reading something that wasn’t really there.

He watched Dean swim ahead to the shore and felt a warm sting in his eyes. It had been a stupid move, and now he’d probably messed up what could’ve been a very good friendship. He mentally kicked himself all the way to shore and stayed silent as he tugged on his clothes over his wet skin.

He glanced up once after Dean had finished dressing to find Dean watching him with a troubled expression. As soon as he realized Sam was looking his way, the expression vanished. 

Walking over to Sam, Dean smiled and gave him a pat on the back. “Let’s get going. I’m so hungry I could eat a—”

“Don’t say it,” warned Sam, holding up his forefinger.

Grinning, Dean said, “Relax. I was gonna say dragon. I could eat a dragon.”

Sam chuckled and shook his head. They walked back to the tent to get changed.


	10. Chapter 10

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Nine *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_Tournament Grounds – Dean’s Tent  
Tuesday Night_

Sam watched as Dean slid his boots off. Dean was seated on the edge of the bed in his tent, bent over as he moved. 

Reflecting on their time at the tavern, Sam sighed softly as he undressed himself. The Dirty Duck had been crowded again that evening. Several of Dean’s friends, fellow knights, had joined them at their table. Sam had been nervous around them, half-expecting that he would do something horribly embarrassing or clumsy; but, each one of the knights had given him a warm welcome and treated him with respect. He liked them all, especially Lee. He seemed to know Dean the best, and their personalities were very similar. 

After a few hours of eating, drinking, and entertaining conversation, Dean and Sam had said their goodbyes and left. They had an early morning tomorrow with more training.

When Sam had undressed down to his leggings, he said, “I had fun tonight. Your friends are really great.”

“I had fun, too. I’m glad we all got to spend time together. I think they all liked you as well.”

“Yeah?” 

“Well, what’s not to like?” asked Dean with a smile. He climbed into his bed and fluffed his pillow. 

Sam stood awkwardly beside the bed for a few moments before sitting down on his pallet on the floor.

“Why are you down there?”

“Um…because you said this is where I sleep?” asked Sam with a bewildered expression.

Dean chuckled softly. “Come on. You slept much better last night up here with me.”

Sam blushed and ducked his head. He cleared his throat. “I thought after…well, after today you might feel uncomfortable sleeping with me.”

Dean propped himself up on one elbow so he could see Sam better. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I did something completely inappropriate earlier, and for that, I’m very sorry. I work for you, and it was entirely unprofessional to put you in such an awkward position.”

Dean blinked. “Where did you get that impression?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You really have to ask?”

“Because I didn’t kiss you back?”

Sam said nothing, just looked down at his folded hands. His face reddened again at the memory of Dean pulling away.

“Sammy,” Dean began in a soft voice. He couldn’t believe Sam thought he’d done something wrong. “It was me being inappropriate, don’t you see?”

“Uh…no?”

Dean sat up in bed and ran his hand through his hair. “You do work for me, so I would never want you to think you had to do anything like that to keep your position as my squire or to please me. But even more importantly, you were just attacked by that bastard Hughes two days ago. You haven’t had time to process any of that, and you need time to deal with it before some other jackass manhandles you or tries to push anything physical on you. I don’t want to be that insensitive jackass.”

Sam’s mouth fell open slightly and he let Dean’s words sink in fully before responding, “I don’t think you’re a jackass.” Then, to lighten the mood a bit: “At least, not about that.”

Dean smirked. “Fair enough. You should sleep wherever you feel most comfortable. I’d welcome having you up here with me, but if you’d rather stay there, that’s fine, too. It’s entirely up to you.”

Dean blew out the candle and settled himself into bed, waiting to see what Sam would do.

Sam sat still for several minutes. The tent was dark. Outside, the grounds were quiet due to the lateness of the hour. He thought about how comfortable the bed was, and how safe he felt when he was sleeping near Dean. 

Sam stood up and padded to the bed as quietly as he could. He crawled in beside Dean, who was lying on his back. Sam, too, lay on his back and let out a contented sigh.

It was a few minutes later when Dean whispered, “Sammy?”

“Yes?” Sam whispered back.

“I know I probably don’t come across as a sharing and caring type of person, and to be honest, most times I’m not. But, I want you to know that if you ever wanna talk about what happened, you can talk to me.”

“I know. Thanks.” 

“And…just because I pulled away earlier doesn’t mean I wanted to pull away.”

“Thank you for telling me.” 

“Sleep well.”

“You, too, De. G’night.”


	11. Chapter 11

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Ten *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_Four Days Later  
Tournament Day One: Saturday, Early Morning _

Dean woke slowly to the feel of a comfortable heat along his left side. He opened his eyes and found Sam’s head on his chest, the rest of his lanky body pressed up against Dean’s side as he slept. Sam’s fingers rested lightly on Dean’s pewter soldier pendant.

Dean gently stroked Sam’s thick hair and smiled. Sam had slept with him every night since their conversation about it, and every morning they woke exactly like this. It was both heaven and hell for Dean. He was determined to protect Sam from any harm, and that included any harm from Dean himself. Dean’s libido was not making it easy for him to resist the abundance of temptation snuggled up beside him every night. Yet, every time Dean thought about the scene he’d witnessed at the smithy, he found it easy to rein himself in. He was determined not to rush Sam into anything until he was fully ready for it, and Sam hadn’t made any attempt to initiate further intimacy with Dean since they were at the lake. 

Sam moaned softly and nuzzled his face against Dean’s bare chest. His arm moved downward in his sleep. Sam’s hand drifted between Dean’s legs and rested on the hardness there. 

Dean closed his eyes again and took a deep breath to steady himself. It took every ounce of self-restraint not to push his hips up into Sam’s hand to get more friction on his morning hard-on. He kept lightly stroking Sam’s hair, sliding his fingertips down to Sam’s neck and then along the smooth skin of his shoulders.

Dean knew the moment Sam woke. Sam’s entire body froze, and Dean could feel Sam’s heartbeat quicken where he lay against him. Dean rested his left arm across Sam’s shoulders in what he hoped was a reassuring gesture.

“Sleep well?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

Unable to answer due to his embarrassment, Sam nodded. He hadn’t moved his hand yet, and wondered what the best way to extricate himself would be. He’d rather keep his hand where it was, but it seemed…presumptuous. He slowly slid his hand upward and rested it on Dean’s stomach instead.

“That’s good.” Dean resumed his feather light stroking along Sam’s bare shoulders. “Big day today.”

“Yeah,” whispered Sam.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Right now, I’m very okay.”

Sam finally looked up at Dean. “Me, too.” Their eyes met and held for a long moment, and then Sam slowly leaned forward and placed a very light kiss on Dean’s lips.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat for a moment, and then he reached up to lightly run the backs of his fingers down Sam’s cheek. “I could get used to waking up like this.”

Sam nodded, and leaned forward to give Dean another kiss. “For luck today.”

Dean kissed Sam’s nose. “I think I might need more luck than that.”

Sam grinned and blushed. He gave Dean another soft kiss, and then Dean wrapped his arms around Sam and pulled him fully on top of Dean.

“This okay?” whispered Dean, nuzzling Sam’s jaw.

“Very,” Sam whispered back, and then pressed his lips against Dean’s again. 

Sam had awakened with his own dick stiff and needy. He’d been spending so much time with Dean the last several days training, practicing, and tending to Nero and Dean’s weapons that he hadn’t had as much alone time as he normally did. He was accustomed to pleasuring himself at least once a day, sometimes even two or three times, to relieve any sexual tension, but he hadn’t had the luxury of solitude to take care of those needs over the last week. His cock was complaining about it now, and seemed ten times more sensitive than usual.

Dean groaned at the feel of Sam’s mouth on his. He gently urged Sam’s lips apart with his tongue. Sam’s inexperience with kissing did nothing to dilute Dean’s enjoyment of the kiss. Dean guided him with his own tongue; Sam soon got the hang of the open-mouthed kiss and eagerly joined his tongue with Dean’s. Dean slid his hands down Sam’s back and rested them on his ass, pulling him down firmly against Dean’s hips.

“You’ll tell me if anything I do is ever not okay, right, Sammy?”

Sam nodded. “Promise,” he whispered, and Dean leaned up to give him another deep kiss.

Sam moaned into the kiss and thrust his hips against Dean’s groin in response, their hard cocks rubbing together through the material of their leggings. Sam broke away, eyes closed, and grunted softly as he ground himself against Dean’s thick cock.

“De…God, feels so good.”

Dean leaned up and nipped at Sam’s exposed neck, licking and sucking. Sam moaned louder, and Dean moved his mouth and teeth along Sam’s jawline, then back down the front of his throat. He wanted to hear Sam make those sounds over and over again, and he wasn’t disappointed.

Sam drove his hips forward again, rubbing his cock against Dean’s in a tight, circular motion before drawing back and doing it again. He was panting hard, and knew he was close to his climax. 

Dean whispered, “Come for me, sweetheart.” He sucked at Sam’s neck again.

Sam wildly thrust his hips, emitting a keening sound. His cock pressed against Dean’s and the material of his pants teased the sensitive wet head of his dick until he felt the first shivers of his orgasm trip up his spine.

He cried out and pushed up on his arms to get as much friction against Dean’s cock as he could, and his orgasm burst forth. His body shuddered as his dick pumped out his release.

Dean wasn’t far behind, lifting his hips as hard as he could against Sam’s spent cock. He groaned softly when his own cock throbbed its climax.

Sam went boneless against him, and Dean wrapped his arms around Sam to hold him close. Sam’s face was buried against his neck, and Dean carded his fingers through Sam’s hair.

“You all right?” he whispered.

Sam let out a breathless chuckle. “Definitely.”

Dean chuckled and moved his head so he could kiss Sam’s temple. 

Sam said, “Wish we could stay like this all day.”

“Me, too. But we have a tournament to win.”

Sam lifted his head to grin at Dean. “Yes, we do.”


	12. Chapter 12

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Eleven *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_Tournament Day One: Saturday, Mid-Morning_

The tournament grounds swarmed with people. Minstrels in bright uniforms wandered around the arena area entertaining new arrivals with their songs and music. Some played the lute, others the flute or fiddle. Sam was following Dean toward the arena but stopped in his tracks when he saw a man juggling six colorful balls in the air without dropping a single one. It was only after a gentle nudge from Dean that he realized he’d stopped.

Merchants had been hawking their wares all week, but the official start of the tournament had brought even more colorful canopies and banners to the areas surrounding the arena. Fascinated, Sam craned his head to see around the crowd and learn what items were for sale at each vendor’s table as they made their way slowly through the crowd.

Dean, dressed in the armor that Sam had polished till it gleamed in the sunlight, led Nero to the stalls where contestants waited for their turns at the archery field or the lists. The long line of wooden stalls was close to the jousting arena and a very short walk to the archery field. Each contestant had his own open stall where he could retire after each match to regroup, repair or replace armor or weapons, or tend horses.

Sam followed, carrying Dean’s sword in its scabbard, along with a pack full of items they might need during the tournament: a canteen full of water, a sharpening stone, more polish, changes of clothing, and bandages, salves, and herbs for any potential injuries. Sam knew he wouldn’t really need the balms for injuries, but he couldn’t let anyone else know it. Sam had carried Dean’s lances to their stall right after breakfast, so those were already waiting for Dean’s arrival.

When the boys arrived at their appointed stall, Sam placed the pack carefully on the straw-covered ground. 

“I’m going to talk with Lee for a minute. I’ll be right back,” said Dean, walking off to find his friend. 

Sam jumped on the moment of privacy to kneel down by the pile of lances in the stall. He lifted his hand to cast a spell on the weapons but stopped himself. Dean wanted to win, certainly, but he would never condone using magical enchantments to give him an unfair advantage over his opponents--even if one of those people was the despicable Taron Hughes. Worse still, Sam wasn’t sure Dean would forgive him for doing such a thing, and the idea that Dean would be disappointed in him in any way cut him to the quick.

He stood and brushed hay from his knees. He settled on using his magic in a more defensive capacity, which he reasoned would be completely fair since it would not affect Dean’s attacks or accuracy. Instead, Sam’s magic would merely provide additional protection against traumatic injuries to keep his knight safe. He could heal quite a lot of different injuries, but Sam would prefer that Dean never become injured in the first place if he could help it.

Dean came over a few minutes later, and Sam walked behind him, checking the fastenings of Dean’s armor again. He held up his hand and whispered so softly that Dean couldn’t hear it, “_Praesidium, viribus._” _Protection, strength._ There was a green glow for just a moment, then it was gone.

“Nervous?” he asked, coming back around in front of Dean again.

Dean smiled. “Nah.”

“Liar,” murmured Sam with a smile.

Dean ruffled Sam’s hair but said nothing. Sam was right. He was on pins and needles but worked hard not to show it. He didn’t want to consider what would happen if he didn’t make at least a somewhat decent showing in the tournament. John Winchester had won more tournaments than Dean could count over the past 20 years. Dean wanted to make his father proud. Even more than that, he found himself wanting to make Sam proud. Originally, he’d wanted to prove to everyone that he deserved his title and that it wasn’t just given to him without merit. Now, he realized that he mostly just wanted to humiliate Hughes as much as possible by beating him in the tournament. A young upstart like Dean Winchester beating the invincible Taron Hughes? Dean salivated at the thought of how furious Hughes would be.

As if conjured by Dean’s thoughts, Hughes rode by on his gorgeous blood bay horse, its long black mane and tail blowing gently in the breeze. Dean watched Sam for his reaction. Interestingly, Sam was focused on the horse instead of its rider. He wore an awestruck expression as the horse grew nearer. 

Its rider, however, seemed entirely focused on Sam. Hughes glared hotly at Dean, and then raked Sam with his eyes from head to toe. He gave Sam a feral smile but rode past without comment. His squire Brian followed on foot. Sam gasped when he saw Brian’s face. His eye was black and blue, and his lip was split. Dean stiffened at the sight of Brian’s injuries. Brian quickly ducked his head and refused to look at Dean.

“Damn that bastard,” muttered Dean through gritted teeth. 

“Do you think he…” Sam couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I wouldn’t doubt it.”

Sam shivered slightly and turned his attention to Dean’s armor, once again making sure everything was in its proper place and fastened securely. 

“It’s fine, Sam.” He placed a hand over Sam’s fingers. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”

“I know. You’re the best fighter I’ve ever seen.”

Dean smiled. “You’re too kind.”

“’S true.”

Dean leaned closer. “I think I need another good luck kiss.”

Sam blushed and grinned, then kissed Dean. It started off as a soft kiss, but quickly heated. Dean’s tongue slipped into Sam’s mouth and he wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist, pulling him flush against his armor. He wished the metal weren’t between them so he could feel the heat and firmness of Sam’s body.

A loud gasp from the stall’s entrance caused both boys to jerk apart in surprise.

“Sam!” 

“Uncle Bobby!” Sam exclaimed in surprise. “Uh, hi. What are you doing here?”

Bobby Singer’s mouth was open in shock. He didn’t reply for several moments.

“Mr. Singer, I can assure you that—”

“That what, boy?” asked Bobby angrily. “That your intentions are honorable? That’s a seventeen-year-old boy who’s supposed to be in your employ as a squire! He’s not here to provide sexual services to you.”

Dean flushed with anger and embarrassment. Bobby had a point. He should’ve kept his and Sam’s relationship professional. “Sir, you’re absolutely right, but I can explain.”

“I can see for myself what’s going on.”

“Uncle Bobby, wait,” Sam cut in. “Dean hasn’t done a thing without my permission. He’s been a perfect gentleman this whole week, I swear. I want this just as much as he does.”

Bobby looked at Sam for several seconds. He noted Sam’s flushed cheeks and determined expression. When Bobby looked at Dean, the knight was looking at his squire with concern. Bobby mentally scrambled to think of any potential excuses to dissuade the boys from continuing this relationship. Coming up with nothing, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “You boys…you just don’t understand. This,” he motioned back and forth between them with his hand, “just cannot happen. It needs to stop now, before it goes any further.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “What? Why?”

Bobby was clearly flustered. “You have responsibilities here, Sam, that’s why. This squire job was supposed to only be for this tournament. Dean will be off doing his duty as a knight, and you’ll need to stay here and meet your other obligations.”

“Obligations to whom? Pellegrino? Dean’s already compensated that bastard for hiring me this week.”

“Respect, Sam,” warned Bobby.

“I would show respect if he deserved it,” spat Sam. “He’s done nothing to help me in the last several months. In fact, I’m the one running that shop because he’s never there. But when people compliment my work, he’s more than happy to take the credit! He’s a lazy liar and doesn’t deserve my respect. And I am not working for him ever again.” He hadn’t really thought about leaving the smithy until that very moment. The instant the words left his mouth, Sam suddenly realized he meant every single one of them.

Bobby’s eyes widened. “What does that mean exactly?”

“I want to travel. I want to leave Crest Haven and see the world. I want to keep squiring for Dean so I can become a knight.”

Bobby took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Dean, sponsoring a squire is a very long commitment. Have you thought about this? Have you actually offered this position to Sam full time?”

Dean glanced at Sam, who turned a pleading expression on him. He looked back at Bobby. “I would love to have Sam squire with me permanently. The only reason I haven’t offered him the full-time job yet was because I wasn’t sure he would be interested.”

Bobby took a deep breath to steady himself and then said, “You boys need to focus on this tournament. We’ll talk about more about this afterward. Sam, your Mom and Dad are in the stands, so just…no more of—” he stopped talking and made the back-and-forth hand gesture again. Then: “They’ll not be happy to see it.”

“I don’t understand why,” Sam said, his voice softening with confusion. “Dean is the best man I’ve ever met. Why would they not be happy if I’m with him?”

Bobby sighed. “Concentrate on the tournament. You’ll need your wits about you to defeat Hughes. We’ll discuss all this later, all right? Good luck, Dean.”


	13. Chapter 13

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Twelve *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_Tournament Day One: Saturday, Mid-Morning  
Archery Competition_

Dean leaned against the railing near the archery buttes beside Lee as they waited for their turns in the final archery round. Each of the contestants had fired two of their three shots. Dean and Hughes were currently tied for the lead.

They watched with interest as the first contestant took his final shot. It landed about three inches off the bullseye.

Lee was up next. Dean gave him a friendly thump on the back and said, “Good luck.”

His friend nodded and walked over to his mark. He pulled back his bow and loosed his arrow. It sank into the target right on the black line circling the bullseye. The crowd applauded and Lee grinned as he came back over to Dean.

“Nice shot!” Dean told him.

“Thanks!” said Lee.

Dean reached an arm up and behind him to scratch an itch beneath his armor. Hughes came up from behind him on his way to take his mark and body checked Dean as he passed. Dean scowled and fought the tremendous urge to lunge at the huge man. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and returned his focus to the task at hand.

Lee gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. “Don’t let that bastard get you riled, man. Beat him where it hurts.” He jerked his head toward the archery target.

Dean just nodded and watched as Hughes took his turn. Hughes’s longbow was painted black and gleamed in the bright sunlight. He nocked his arrow and aimed at the target for several moments, then shot. The audience burst into cheers as the arrow hit the bullseye mark.

With effort, Dean kept his face frozen in a neutral expression even though inwardly his brain spewed curses. He would need to have a near-perfect shot to beat Hughes.

Dean was up next, so he started toward his mark. Hughes was returning and gave Dean a gloating smile as he approached. He paused and leaned down to say, “When I win, I’m gonna celebrate by showing Sam a good time, Winchester.”

Dean glared up at him. “Then I’m not worried because you’ll never win,” he said, and then stalked off toward his mark.

To buy himself some time, Dean pretended to check his bow before shooting. His blood boiled, and his fingers quivered slightly from the fury rushing through his veins. Nobody had ever stoked his anger like Hughes did. The fact that Sam never reported Hughes’s transgression still ate at Dean every day. He desperately wanted Hughes to pay for his horrible crime, and it burned him up that the man was still walking around every day as if nothing had happened.

When he’d finally calmed himself enough that his fingers were steady again, Dean nocked his arrow. He took a deep breath and cleared his mind of all that had happened earlier that morning. He couldn’t afford to allow troubling thoughts to cloud his mind during this critical round. Of the two events, he was most confident he’d beat Hughes at archery. It gave him an advantage because their size disparity didn’t affect the outcome of this competition. Lifting his bow, Dean drew back the bow string, took careful aim, and let his arrow fly.

The arrow sank into the inner bullseye just to the left of Hughes’s arrow, and the crowd erupted in applause.

Hughes let out a furious roar and snapped his bow across his knee before stomping out off the archery field.

Dean beamed at his victory and gave the crowd a wave of thanks.

After collecting his archery trophy, Dean went back to his stall where Sam was waiting with a wide grin. “Now that’s what I call a grand start!”

Dean chuckled. “We still have a long way to go to.” He placed the trophy gently in his pack and closed it.

Sam smiled at him. “I like it when you say that.”

“What?”

“When you say ‘we’ and ‘our’ instead of ‘me’ or ‘my’. I like it a lot.”

“Huh…I didn’t even realize it.” He smiled and gave Sam’s arm an affectionate pat. “I like it, too.”

⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜

_Tournament Day One: Saturday Afternoon  
Jousting Competition_

The lists at Crest Haven were brand new, built just for this tournament. The wood railings and the stands still had that freshly cut smell. On one side sat all the nobles and their entourages, and on the other, the stands teemed with commoners. Many were standing because there weren’t enough seats for all the spectators.

Dean approached the jousting area on Nero. Sam walked beside Dean and carried his lance.

“First up is Joe Baldwin. I went to school with his brother. He’s no threat to you,” Sam said.

Dean smiled. “I appreciate your vote of confidence, but I find it’s better if I consider every opponent a threat.”

Dean reached out a hand, and Sam placed the long lance in Dean’s armored grip.

“Be careful, De.”

“Don’t you worry, Sammy.”

“Sam.”

“Dean.”

Sam blinked and then realized what Dean meant. He chuckled and blushed. “Touché.”

“I like it,” Dean said with a wide grin, and then he rode off to take his mark and wait for the signal.

During the first pass, Dean’s lance struck Joe dead center on his chest. The momentum knocked the man off his horse, and Dean was declared the victor.

The second-round contestant facing Dean was Thomas Merlyn from a kingdom near Calden called Nocking Point. Ironically, Thomas had come in last during the archery competition, and Dean figured the poor guy might never that live down when he got home. Dean had met Thomas a few times in his travels since their kingdoms were on friendly terms. He was a nice enough guy, not too big, not too clever. Dean was fairly confident that if he stayed focused, he’d beat Thomas.

The flag went down and the horses lurched forward into a gallop down the rail. Dean leveled his lance at Thomas’s chest, his goal to break his lance for the full three points. Unfortunately, Thomas’s lance struck Dean’s arm and caused his grip to loosen. Dean’s hit was solid, but it hit Thomas’s side instead of his chest.

Dean’s arm ached where Thomas’s lance had struck it. The armor had protected him, but the force of the blow still caused some percussion pain. He knew it wasn’t serious, but his arm would surely bruise and stiffen, which would make holding and aiming the heavy lance more challenging in future rounds. He trotted back to the stall to get another lance since his had broken during the pass. Sam ran up to check on him and brought a new lance.

“He got your arm. How bad?”

“I’m okay.” Dean motioned for the new lance.

“I should take a look at it.”

“There’s no time. We’ll do it after, all right?”

“’Kay. Good luck.”

Dean cantered off toward the starting line again.

The second pass was successful. Thomas’s lance missed Dean entirely, but Dean’s lance hit Thomas squarely in the chest and shattered his lance. The crowd cheered and applauded. Dean gave another wave as he left the list field.

Sam beamed when Dean got back to their stall. “That was amazing!”

“That was lucky.”

“No way! That was all skill!”

Chuckling, Dean removed his gauntlets. “That’s it for today. We’ll have more rounds tomorrow, and then the final.”

“Let me see your arm.”

“It’s fine.”

“Stop being stubborn,” Sam told him, helping Dean unfasten his plate mail. He dropped the armor to the ground and looked at the red area where the lance had connected. “I need to make you some new armor that fits better. This is gonna leave a big bruise.”

“No big deal.”

“Let me get some salve on it. It will reduce the swelling and bruising.”

Sam reached into the pack he’d brought and withdrew a vial of thick oil. He opened the vial and dabbed a bit on his forefinger, and then rubbed it around Dean’s arm. He whispered a spell in Latin as he rubbed.

“What was that?” asked Dean.

“Nothing, just said I hope this oil will do the trick,” Sam lied. “There. Should be feeling better soon.”

Dean pushed his arm up and down at the elbow a few times and flexed his bicep. “Huh. Already feels a lot better. Thanks.”

“Anytime. Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Let’s get Nero settled, get changed, and go eat. I want to run and say hi to Mom and Dad really fast, then I’ll meet you back at your tent, ‘kay?”

Dean leaned close to Sam’s ear and whispered, “Our tent.” He kissed the shell of Sam’s ear. Anyone watching would just think the boys were sharing a secret.

Sam blushed and nodded, then trotted off toward the stands to find his parents.


	14. Chapter 14

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Thirteen *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_Tournament Day Two: Sunday, Early Morning_

Sam woke with his head on Dean’s chest and his leg thrown over one of Dean’s. He didn’t move for several moments, just enjoying the warmth of Dean’s body against his. His dick was hard against Dean’s thigh. He wanted Dean to touch him there, wanted to know what it was like for someone else’s fingers to slide up and down the shaft.

Very lightly, he ran his palm across Dean’s smooth stomach. The muscles underneath were firm, yet the skin was silky smooth. His fingertip gingerly pressed into Dean’s navel, and then traced along the faint line of hair leading to the waistband of his leggings. Sam could see the outline of Dean’s thick, hard cock beneath the thin material. Before he could stop himself, his fingers traced the length of it, dragging very slowly down and up.

Dean moaned and startled Sam. He stopped his stroking.

“Do you like touching me there, Sam?” whispered Dean, his voice rough with sleep.

“Yes,” Sam whispered back.

“You can touch me anywhere, anytime you want.”

Sam swallowed and nodded, then looked back between Dean’s legs. “Can I take off your leggings?”

Dean smiled and stroked Sam’s hair. “You can also take my clothes off anytime you want.”

Sam huffed a quiet laugh and reached for Dean’s pants, tugging them down and off. He dropped them beside the bed and looked at Dean’s naked body all stretched out in front of him. His mouth went dry at the sight. He wished he had more experience so he could make sure Dean enjoyed everything he did.

“What is it?” asked Dean, carding his fingers through Sam’s thick chestnut locks.

“Just…enjoying the view.”

“Mmm.” Dean smiled at him. “Want to take off your pants as well so I can enjoy the view, too?”

Sam blushed and slid his own leggings off, dropping them to the floor beside Dean’s.

“I like it when you touch me. Will you do it again?”

Nodding, Sam reached out and gave Dean’s hot shaft a tentative stroke. Dean’s dick was a beautiful thing, long and thick. Sam wrapped his fingers around the base and gave it a gentle squeeze, making Dean gasp in pleasure.

Slowly, he moved his hand up and down the length of Dean’s hardness, giving the tip a little squeeze the way he enjoyed doing it to himself. He hoped that Dean would like it, too. When a little bead of precome appeared, Sam rubbed it into the head of Dean’s cock with his fingertip.

“Jesus, Sammy. Feels so good.”

“Tell me what to do.”

A wave of unexpected emotion overwhelmed Dean. He was deeply moved that Sam trusted him and wanted to share his first intimate moments with him. “Anything you do will feel good.”

Sam furrowed his brow. That was really not helpful since Sam didn’t have any experience with “anything”s related to sex. Dean was just being nice, he was sure, and he fervently wanted to please him. He rested his hand against Dean’s warm dick and tried to decide what to do next.

When he made no move to do anything else, Dean added, “Just touch me like you touch yourself.”

Sam turned crimson and stuttered, “H-how do you know…I mean, I don’t…”

“Sammy,” Dean said, and the way he said it made Sam look Dean in the eye. “You’re a teenaged boy. It’s a given. I do it all the time, too. Everyone does.” He smiled.

“Oh,” breathed Sam and looked down between Dean’s legs again.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know,” Dean said softly, and ran his fingertips along Sam’s bare back.

“I know. I want to.”

Dean lay there patiently waiting, and Sam finally moved his hand again, squeezing and stroking Dean back to the point that he was leaking precome freely. Sam’s hand picked up the moisture on the upstroke and spread it along Dean’s cock on the downward pull, until Dean’s dick was completely slick. Sam’s stroking got faster and glided with purpose. Dean’s breath hitched and he moaned loudly. 

“Wanna watch you come, De.”

That was all Dean needed. He grunted and shoved his hips up into Sam’s grip, and his cock throbbed out hot seed all over his chest and stomach.

Sam ran his hand through the mess, spreading it all around Dean’s belly and around his peaked nipples. When he leaned forward and darted his tongue out to flick it across a come-covered nipple, Dean gasped in shock.

“You taste good.”

“God, you’re gonna kill me,” groaned Dean.

Sam chuckled softly and pressed his hard cock into Dean’s leg. “Nearly came myself just watching you.”

Dean pulled Sam up beside him and urged him gently onto his back. “Let’s do something about that.”

Dean scooted down and lifted Sam’s shaft in his hand. Sam shivered in anticipation. Dean smirked and flicked the tip of his tongue out to circle the wet mushroom tip. Sam let out a surprised moan. Dean slid his hot mouth around the head and pushed down the entire length of Sam’s dick.

“Oh my God!” Sam cried, his head thrown back with pleasure. Never in all his self-pleasure sessions had he imagined anything could feel as blissful as the hot, wet heat of Dean’s mouth sucking hard against his cock.

Dean hummed, increasing the sensations. Sam couldn’t hold still. He thrust his hips up into Dean’s mouth and grabbed the covers in his fingers. His head shook back and forth with every pass of Dean’s lips.

It ended embarrassingly fast. Sam yelped and felt his cock explode into the heat of Dean’s mouth. His entire body spasmed in ecstasy, down to his toes. Dean held Sam’s cock in his mouth for several moments afterward and stroked Sam’s sac gently.

“Oh my God,” whispered Sam. “That was…that was…oh my God.”

Chuckling, Dean moved back up next to Sam. “You taste good, too.”

Sam blushed and snuggled closer.

⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜

_Tournament Day Two: Sunday, Mid-Morning  
Jousting Field_

Dean’s first jousting match on day two was against Gray Wilmington, a knight from the kingdom of Shadowmere. Dean liked Gray very much, and he was a fairly formidable opponent. 

The first pass of their match led to Gray breaking the tip of his lance on Dean for one point, and Dean shattering his lance against Gray for three points. During the second pass, Gray earned three points and Dean earned two. During their final run, Dean broke his lance for another three points and Gray earned only one. Dean emerged victorious.

The second match of the day was against Lee. Dean gave his friend a salute before they charged down the lists at each other. He held his lance steady and aimed for Lee's chest, trying for a three-point lance break. When they struck one another, Dean let out a surprised whoosh of air and nearly fell out of his saddle. He managed to hold on, though, and found that they had both earned three points for their hits. 

The second pass was less brutal. Dean knocked his lance against Lee for two points, and Lee earned a single point. 

Dean lifted the face mask of his helm and ribbed his friend, “Getting a little tired, Lee?”

“You wish! You’re about to kiss the dirt.”

Dean laughed and went back to the starting point.

The two men met again in a solid crash of wood. When the scores were raised, Dean came out ahead. The crowd cheered wildly, whistling and chanting, “Winchester! Winchester!”

Dean waved at them and rode Nero off the list field back to his stall. Sam whooped and practically pulled Dean off the horse to hug him.

“That was awesome!” 

Dean laughed and hugged Sam back. “Thanks. Just one to go now.”

Sam’s beaming face sobered at the thought. They’d been watching Hughes all day, and he’d been annihilating his opponents with the force of his blows.

“Yeah,” said Sam softly. His face brightened again. “But you keep doing what you’re doing, and he’ll be on the ground.”

⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜ ⚜

_Tournament Day Two: Sunday Afternoon  
Jousting Field_

Nero pranced at the starting line. It was as though he, too, recognized the significance of the coming match. Dean patted his neck to calm him. He took a deep breath himself to focus all his attention and energy into the contest ahead.

The announcer went through all the formalities of introducing the contestants, and the crowd gave an uproar louder than any Dean had heard thus far. It seemed that there were plenty of fans for both contestants, and excitement was at a fever pitch.

Hughes and his bay mount waited at the far end of the lists, and Dean fought to control his nerves. He’d watched Hughes’s matches the previous day to try and get a sense of his jousting style. Dean had noticed that Hughes—unsurprisingly—relied on his size and strength alone rather than any finesse with the lance. Dean would need to focus hard and hit Hughes just right for maximum lance breakage. Fortunately, Hughes provided a very large target.

The flag went up, and Dean hoisted his lance. The flag dropped and he kneed Nero into action. Nero burst forward with enormous speed. Dean straightened his lance and aimed for the crest etched in Hughes’s chest armor. Hughes’s lance was coming right at him and Dean tried to ignore it, focusing only on his target. 

The impact came with a resounding crash as both lances struck armor and shattered. The blow was far harder than any Dean had taken thus far. When Dean caught his breath again, the scores came up for both of them: 3-3. Tie. Damnit, he thought. If he lost to Hughes, he wasn’t sure he could stomach it. He gave Nero’s neck a pat and headed back to the start again. 

Sam handed him a fresh lance. “That was a great strike. Do it again and you’ll have him.”

Dean just nodded and lifted the lance as the flag for round two went up. Sam hopped out of the way as the flag came down and Dean took off again. He aimed once more for Hughes’s crest and gave a battle yell as his lance made contact. Hughes’s lance struck Dean’s shoulder and knocked him back. Only Dean’s solid knee grip on Nero’s sides kept him seated. He looked back and smiled with satisfaction when he saw Hughes picking a splinter out of his neck. 

When the scores went up again, it was another tie: 3-3. Dean cursed and headed back to the start again.

“Jesus, are you okay?” asked Sam.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“He got your left shoulder. Are you sure?”

“It’s okay, Sammy, don’t worry. I’m fine. Give me the lance.”

Sam handed Dean the new lance. “Good luck. You got this.”

Dean nodded once and trotted back to the start.

Sam watched Hughes at the other end already holding his fresh lance. His horse balked under him, and he jerked the reins roughly. Sam scowled at the rough treatment of such a beautiful animal.

The flag dropped, and the two men rushed toward each other for the final round. As they got closer, Dean saw Hughes’s lance tilted up higher than usual. It was aimed directly for his head. No contestant was allowed to purposely strike off-target, which included the head or helmet. Vaguely Dean heard the crowd gasp when they saw what was happening. 

At the last second, Dean leaned sideways in his saddle. Hughes’s lance struck Dean’s right shoulder instead of his head, but not before Dean’s lance shattered on Hughes’s midsection.

The crowd was on its feet, the cheers and whistles nearly deafening. Dean turned around and saw Hughes at the other end of the lists again. He yanked his horse’s reins angrily. The horse reared up and surprised Hughes, causing him to fall to the ground with a heavy thump. Dust flew up all around his large body, and the crowd’s wild cheers turned into raucous laughter.

Hughes got to his feet and let out a rage-fueled bellow. He grabbed his large sword from Brian’s hand and lifted it high over his head.

When Sam realized what Hughes intended to do with his sword, he held up his hand and screamed, “Nooo!”

Everything and everyone around Sam froze. The world was utterly silent. Not a single person moved in the stands. It was as if time stood still. Sam gasped in shock. He’d never done anything like that before, and he had absolutely no clue how he’d managed to do it just then. Most importantly, he had no idea how long it would last. His only thought was saving that gorgeous horse from a terrible fate. 

Sam ran as fast as he could to where Hughes stood, his huge sword poised above his head. The horse was frozen, too, and Sam had no idea how to move it out of harm’s way. Frantically, he tried to pry the sword from Hughes’s hands, but the grip was too tight.

“Come on, beautiful, please come with me,” he said in a low voice to the horse, petting its forehead. “We have to hurry, please.”

The horse didn’t move. Shit, Sam thought. He chanted all the magic spells he knew for movement or locomotion, but they did nothing.

“I’ll take you away from that horrible man if you come with me. I’ll take care of you. You can be mine. Please, come on. Help me.”

The horse blinked and nickered. Sam gasped and tugged the reins gently, running away as fast as he could. The horse trotted easily behind him. They disappeared from the tournament grounds just when everything unfroze and began to move as if nothing had happened. 

Hughes’s bellow continued as if it had never stopped, but when his sword fell, it cut only earth. His horse was gone. He was nonplussed to the point that his rage abated, and he staggered back with a puzzled look.

The crowd fell eerily silent. Everyone looked around in confusion. Dean blinked in shock. One moment the horse was there, and then next instant, it had vanished. 

“Sammy, did you see—“ he started, turning this way and that, looking for Sam. He’d just been standing there. Where could he have gone? Dean narrowed his eyes as a thought occurred to him. The bay horse had disappeared. Sam had disappeared. And Dean knew just how much Sam loved that horse. But…that would be impossible. He shook his head to clear it.

The audience’s murmurs and questions became louder and louder. After a few minutes had passed, the judges posted the scores. 3:1. Dean had won the tournament. 

The crowd eventually settled back into applauding and cheering for Dean’s victory, but it was more subdued than the raucous response earlier. An aura of mystery and confusion remained that left spectators unsettled. Dean glanced around once more hoping to find Sam so he could share the victory with him, but he didn’t see him anywhere. Bewildered and very concerned, Dean strode to the center of the arena to collect his trophy.


	15. Chapter 15

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Fourteen *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

After running for about half a mile, Sam stopped at a barn and ditched the saddle and all equipment that the horse was carrying. He hopped onto the horse bareback and rode her the rest of the way home. When he reached his house, he took the horse into the shed in the back yard.

“What are you doin’ with that horse?” his father asked from behind Sam. 

“Dad!” exclaimed Sam in surprise. He hadn’t expected anyone to be home yet, and he rushed to think of an explanation. When nothing came to him, he said instead, “Why aren’t you at the tournament?”

“I had work to do here.” Ed crossed his arms. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“You should’ve seen Dean compete. He was great!”

“Sam Winslow, you answer me.”

“I had to! Hughes was about to cut off its head!”

Ed blinked. “Come again?”

“Hughes had a bad run at the lists, and he got all mad, and he raised his sword and was about to chop off his horse’s head!”

Ed allowed himself a moment to process this. “That still doesn’t answer the question of how its head is still attached and why you were riding it.”

“I couldn’t let him do it, Dad! I just couldn’t! So…so I think maybe I…frozetimeandthenranawaywiththehorse.” He blurted it out fast hoping it wouldn’t sound as monumental as it felt.

Ed’s mouth fell open. “You did what now?”

“I think,” Sam said slowly after a deep breath, “that I accidentally froze time. And I went over to the horse and led it away before the sword could fall and chop off its head.”

“You’re telling me that the arena is frozen in time?!”

“No! No, don’t worry, everything started again after I got the horse out.”

Ed ran his hand over his face. “Son, I think you’d best come inside.”

“_Celo_,” murmured Sam, waving at the horse, and it became invisible. “I can’t risk anyone finding her.”

Ed rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Come on.”

“Where’s Mom?” Sam asked once they were in the kitchen.

“She went off to shop at the vendors. I thought maybe she’d go by the tournament, but I guess not.” Ed pointed to a chair at the kitchen table. “Sit.”

Once Sam was seated, Ed sat across from him and said, “Bobby told me what happened yesterday.”

Sam paled. “He…he did?”

Ed nodded. “Said you have this notion of running off with Dean to squire full time.”

Sam pushed his chin out defiantly. “It’s not a ‘notion,’ Dad. I’ve made up my mind. I want to be a knight.”

“But you have work here. If you don’t want to be a blacksmith, we can find work for you with your healing abilities.”

“Dad…I want to see the world. And…and more importantly, I want to see the world with Dean.”

Ed’s eyebrows went up. “Pardon?”

“I’m in love with Dean. I want to stay with him wherever he goes.”

Ed’s jaw fell open again. For several moments he was speechless.

Sam looked at him in confusion. “You said Bobby told you what happened.”

“He…he said you talked about going away with Dean.”

“Right. Because I love him.”

“Bobby left that part out.” Ed said faintly. He grew pale, and Sam became more confused.

“I don’t understand. Bobby said you’d be upset about it, but Dean is a fine knight and an honorable man. He’s from a good family. He has good standing in the community. He cares about me, too. So, what’s the problem?”

“Sam, there’s something very important that I need to tell you. I should’ve done it long ago, but I just never…” Ed’s voice trailed off as he struggled to find the best way to tell Sam the dark secret he’d spent the last 14 years trying to hide.

“What? What is it?”

“Sam?” Dean called from outside the front door, and then knocked firmly.

“Dean!” Sam jumped up excitedly and ran to answer the door. 

Ed sat back in his chair, trying to formulate the words to tell the boys the news that would rip their worlds apart.

“Hello, Mr. Winslow!” Dean greeted happily when he entered the kitchen, holding his trophy. Although still confused by Sam’s odd disappearance, his relief at finding Sam safe at home forestalled his questions until they had some privacy to talk.

“Hello, Dean. Congratulations.” He pointed at the trophy. 

Dean’s smile faded at the man’s lack of enthusiasm. “Is everything all right, sir?”

“Please. Sit. Both of you.”

Dean and Sam both sat beside each other. Dean placed his trophy on the table. 

“You should’ve seen what happened at the arena, sir. It was incredible. Hughes was in such a rage over a bad run that he was about to kill his own horse! Then in the very next instant, the horse was gone! Just completely vanished, just like that.” Dean snapped his fingers. “It was like…” his voice trailed off as he realized that it wasn’t just “like” magic. It had to have been magic. That would mean there was a sorcerer in Crest Haven. “Magic,” he finished in a voice laced with wonder.

“Yes. Sam was just telling me about it.” 

“But…Sam wasn’t there.” Dean turned to look at Sam. “I thought you’d left and wondered why. You saw it happen?”

There was silence for several seconds. Finally, Sam replied in a soft voice, “I…I did it.”

“You did what?” asked Dean, confused.

“I froze everything so I could save the horse from being killed. I took the horse away.”

“What do you mean you froze everything?”

“It was an accident!” Sam rushed to assure him. “I panicked at the thought of the horse dying, and I just…well. I think I froze time.”

“You froze time.” It was more of a statement than a question. “As in…as in some kind of magic spell or something?”

Sam nodded.

Dean sat back in his chair, eyes wide. “Magic.”

Sam just nodded again, his expression full of misery. “I was going to tell you, but—”

“When exactly? We’ve been together for over a week, and in all this time, you never mentioned this.”

“I don’t do magic a lot. And…I know you’re from Calden. I know magic is forbidden there, and I didn’t want you to…be afraid of me.”

Dean just stared at him for several long moments, his face hardening. “Too late,” he told Sam in a cold voice. Then he added, “Why the hell didn’t you use your magic on Hughes then?” asked Dean.

Sam bristled at Dean’s accusatory tone, but he tried to remain calm. “Well, first off, I need my hands to cast, and he trapped them so I couldn’t move them. And secondly, I don’t really know offensive spells. Just spells of healing or protection, that sort of thing. And…apparently freezing time,” he finished in a small voice.

Ed sat in silence, watching the exchange with sudden hope. He wouldn’t have to tell them anything if this news broke them apart. Then Sam could stay safely in Crest Haven, and Dean could go back to Calden, and they’d never have to interact again. His guilt at feeling hopeful was outweighed by his feeling of overwhelming relief at the idea of never having to tell them such a shocking secret.

Dean stood after several moments and looked down at Sam. “Thank you for your help this week.” His voice lacked its usual warmth. His posture was formal and rigid, as if he were dealing with one of the merchants at the tournament.

He dug in his pants pocket and withdrew a leather drawstring satchel. He opened the pouch and withdrew a gold coin. “For your squire services. I won’t be needing them anymore.”

Sam gasped softly. “You’re…you’re dismissing me?”

“I can’t have a squire I don’t trust. Honesty is part of a knight’s code, Sam. I told you that from the very start. You weren’t honest with me. I’m sorry. More than I can say.” His voice grew husky and he cleared his throat. He fought to keep the expression on his face polite and neutral when he said to Sam, “I sincerely wish this had turned out differently. Good day to you both.” Dean took his trophy and walked out the front door.

Sam sat in stunned silence for a full two minutes. Ed finally said, “I’m so sorry, Sam, but I think this is—” 

“If you say ‘for the best,’ I will never speak to you again,” warned Sam, and he stood and rushed to his room.


	16. Chapter 16

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Chapter Fifteen *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

_Two Days Later: Tuesday, Mid-Morning_

“Ed told me what happened,” Sheila told Sam in a sympathetic voice. It was the first time she’d said a word to Sam since Dean had left the house. He’d been holed up in his room with the door locked during the times she'd been at home, so she hadn’t had the chance to talk with him.

Sam was sitting at the kitchen table picking at his breakfast. His eyes were puffy and red-rimmed from crying and from lack of sleep. His hair hadn’t been combed in two days, and the only reason he came out of his room was to appease his mother and eat something, and to feed Ember.

“Yeah.”

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing.” He was tired of everyone giving him pitying looks. Uncle Bobby especially. Sam had ditched his last two healing lessons, and he had no plans to go back to it anytime soon.

“I’m gonna go feed Ember.” He got up and walked out the side door toward the shed. Ember had been invisible for two days, but Sam had left plenty of hay in the shed along with a bucket of water for her to drink. He would continue the concealment spell until he was certain that every last tournament competitor and every last vendor had left Crest Haven for good.

While he was in the shed with the door closed, Sam cast a spell to reveal his magnificent new mount. He brushed her every time he came to visit, and her reddish-brown coat gleamed. Her long black tail nearly dragged the ground, and her mane fell past her shoulders. She was stunning, he knew, and such an incredible animal was bound to catch the eyes of interested parties around town. He hadn’t quite figured out what to do about that yet.

Ember shifted on her feet several times as Sam fed her. He leaned down and lifted up her front hoof. Feeling around, he realized her shoe was loose.

“Oh no, girl. We need to get you some new shoes, huh? Figures that bastard wouldn’t make sure they were on securely.” Sam removed the ill-fitting shoe and patted her soft neck. “I’ll go get some and be back in a while.”

He put the horseshoe in his pocket for sizing, and waved his hand at Ember. “_Celo._” She vanished from sight.

An hour later, after Sam had cleaned himself up and run a comb through his hair, he made his way to the blacksmith shop.

“Anyone here?” he called out. When he got no answer, he shook his head. No surprise there, he thought.

He noticed the forge was still hot, so at some point Pellegrino had been there. He stoked it and used the bellows to wake the coals again. He walked to the back of the shop and dug the damaged horseshoe from his pocket. He bent down and started sorting through the pile of horseshoes he’d made before the tournament started.

“I think you owe me something, boy.”

Sam froze. He slowly turned to see Hughes standing behind him. He stood to his full height and held out his hand. He tried to tamp down his fear long enough to concentrate on casting. He thought of stopped time, and mumbled every Latin word he could think if for freeze, stop, desist, stall, and time. Nothing happened.

“What the hell are you doing?” growled Hughes.

“N-nothing. I don’t owe you anything,” said Sam, and lunged to his right to try and get away. He waved his hand at himself and cast a protection spell: “_Tutela._”

Hughes reached out a massive hand and grabbed Sam’s arm before he got far. He yanked Sam back around and up against his huge body.

“We started something we never got to finish last week,” he told Sam with a nasty grin. “I think it’s time we continue where we left off now that Winchester’s not here to interfere.”

Sam fought and punched, kicked and shoved, but the man was immovable. Sam had learned so much and trained so hard in the past week, but it still wasn’t enough. Hughes struck Sam on the jaw. Fortunately, the magic spell he’d cast on himself kept the blow from hurting or breaking his jaw, but it didn’t stop the force of it from knocking Sam into the worktable.

Hughes approached with menace. “Let’s try this again.” He grabbed Sam by the neck and threw him up against the wood wall, holding him up about a foot over his own head. “I promised Winchester I’d show you a good time.”

Sam’s protection spell helped him to breathe while Hughes’s hand clamped down on his neck, but he couldn’t break free of the grip. Hughes stood too close for Sam to be able to kick him with his legs. He wriggled and fought, but he was well and truly trapped.

“Déjà vu,” came a cold voice from behind Hughes. Sam’s heart fluttered against his ribs like a bird’s wings at the familiar sound of Dean’s deep voice.

Hughes, not letting go of his prize, turned to find Dean Winchester behind him. “Pissant. Can’t kill me without risking stabbing pretty boy here, too. Go away before I rip your boy’s arms off,” he snapped.

Dean realized Hughes was right. He couldn’t risk slashing or stabbing Hughes with Sam right there against him. Fighting a momentary panic, he glanced up and saw Sam’s eyes wide with terror. He was looking to Dean for help. Dean’s gaze fell to Hughes’s leather-clad feet. The man was holding Sam up a foot over his head. His feet were free and clear of Sam.

With an adrenalin-fueled rage, Dean slashed his sword downward and across Hughes’s ankles with all his strength. The newly-sharpened blade chopped through bone and sinew with a loud crack, severing both of Hughes’s feet from his legs.

Hughes let out a high-pitched scream as he instantly crashed to the ground. Sam fell to the floor, too, and instinctively rolled away from his attacker as far as he could. When he turned back and saw blood pooling on the floor of the shop, his eyes bulged in shock. Dean stood there spattered with crimson, his sword dripping blood. Hughes lay on the floor, writhing in agony and howling with rage. Sam had never seen such an expression of fury and vitriol on Dean’s face.

“Let me show you _my_ idea of a good time,” snarled Dean through gritted teeth, his voice oozing venom.

Hughes let out another crazed bellow, lashing out with both hands trying to grab Dean. Easily evading the groping hands, Dean raised his sword high. With a guttural growl, he swung downward as hard as he could, lopping of the giant man’s head.

The shop instantly fell silent has Hughes’s mad cries died with him.

Sam turned away from the gruesome sight and clamped his eyes shut.

After catching his breath again, Dean crouched beside him. “Sammy,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

Sam shook his head. He shivered and fought back tears. It wasn’t Hughes who had him so emotional. It was the handsome, green-eyed man who’d saved him. Again.

“I’m so sorry. I never should’ve left.”

It was several moments before Sam had calmed himself enough to respond. “Why did you come back?”

“I was stupid. I realize we haven’t known each other that long. It just _feels_ like I’ve known you forever. I can't expect you to tell me every secret you have when I've only known you for a week. The way I was raised, being a soldier in Calden, constantly told that magic is evil. I guess I let all those misguided teachings cloud my judgment.”

Sam looked at Dean warily. “What changed your mind?”

“I tried to imagine my life without you in it. I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“A knight needs his squire.”

“I thought you didn’t trust me.” Sam’s eyes filled with tears when he remembered the terrible sting of Dean’s words two days earlier.

“I can’t think of a single person in this world I trust more than you, Sammy. Finding out that you can use magic shocked me. I was angry that you didn’t tell me, but after I stopped to think about it, I understand why you didn’t. All I know is that I want to learn more about you, and I want you to learn more about me.”

“What about your king? He hates magic and anyone who uses it. I’ve heard what he does with so-called witches and those who help them. I would never forgive myself if I put you in harm’s way.”

“We’ll figure everything out as we go. I need you with me. Please say yes.”

Sam considered Dean’s words for a few beats, and then his mouth split into a wide grin that showed off his dimples. “Yes.”

Dean hugged him tightly, and he was overcome with relief and joy when Sam hugged him back just as hard. “Let’s get cleaned up at the tavern and then let the magistrate know about this mess.”

“What will you tell him exactly?”

“That Hughes attacked you to get to me, and I killed him.”

Sam nodded. “We need to go get Ember and take her with us.” Realizing that Dean might not know who he meant, he quickly added, “The horse. That’s her name.”

“I like it.”

“I want to just go away with you. I don’t want my parents to stop us, and Bobby knows magic, too. He probably could figure out a way to stop us if he knows what we’re planning. We need to sneak in and get Ember without anyone realizing it. I’ll leave them a note so they’ll know after we’ve gone.”

Dean thought about that for a bit. “I’m not normally in favor of sneaking around instead of being forthright about my intentions. However,” he looked at Sam and stroked his hair. “I’m not willing to risk losing you again. I’m in.”

Sam beamed at him. Dean continued, “I don’t expect the magistrate will have any issues with you taking ownership of Ember now that her former owner,” he glanced at the headless corpse with disdain, “has died. Still, she’s a unique breed that might attract some attention while we’re trying to leave town unnoticed.”

Sam licked his lips and braced himself to say his next words, worried about how Dean might react. “I think I have a solution.”

Dean raised his eyebrows but said nothing, waiting for Sam to continue.

“I know a spell that will make her invisible,” he explained softly. “I can just walk next to you and Nero and lead Ember out of town till we get far enough away for me to undo the spell and ride her.”

A slow smile spread across Dean’s face. “You can make an entire horse invisible?”

Sam smiled back, relieved at Dean’s reaction. “I can’t wait to show you.”

“I can’t wait to see it.”

Dean leaned in for a soft kiss, pulling Sam against him. Sam deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck as their tongues melded. Both of them were breathing heavily when Dean gently pulled away. He cupped Sam’s face in his hands.

“These last two days have been some of the most miserable of my life.”

“Me, too. Felt like half of me was missing without you,” replied Sam.

Dean kissed Sam’s nose and whispered, “I love you.”

Sam threw his arms around Dean and nuzzled his neck. “I love you, too.”

Dean kissed Sam’s temple and then pointed at Hughes’s dead body. “We should get this taken care of before someone wanders in and causes a commotion.”

“Agreed.”

They both stood and straightened their clothing. Sam smoothed his hair with his hands and said, “There is one more thing I need to bring with us, though.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” asked Dean.

Sam stood and made a clicking sound with his mouth.

_Meow._

“There you are,” he said, looking up at the crossbeam. “Come on, Thor. We’re going on an adventure.”

“Oh, no. No, no.”

Thor jumped down and Sam picked him up, cradling him in his arms. “Oh, yes.”

“Fine, but he’s riding with you. I can’t be sneezing for hours a day.”

“Okay. You’ll ride on the invisible horse, right, Thor? Nobody will find that a strange sight.”

Thor blinked slowly at Dean. _Meow._

Dean looked toward the ceiling. “Give me strength.”

Sam chuckled and slapped Dean’s shoulder playfully. “Come on, Winchester. We’ve got work to do.”


	17. Chapter 17

***~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Epilogue *~*~*~*~*~*~*~***

“Oh no,” Sheila said, covering her face with her hands as tears stung her eyes.

Ed held up the parchment and silently read the note again:

_Dear Mom and Dad,_

_Dean came back to me yesterday. He’s decided that he still wants me to be his permanent squire. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything, so we’re leaving without a formal goodbye. I hope you can forgive me, but I don’t want you to try and talk me out of this or stop me. I’m meant to be with Dean. I can feel it, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be. I hope that my happiness with my decision takes away some of the sadness of our parting. I will miss you both very much, but I’ll try to write as often as I can. I’ll also be back to visit the next time Dean and I are nearby. Please take care and stay safe._

_Much Love Always,  
Sam_

Ed locked eyes with his distraught wife. His voice cracked and came out in a hoarse whisper when he said, “My God. What have we done?”


End file.
